XMen: Among Thieves
by JayCee's RedGold
Summary: Origin Story of Gambit and Rogue treating XM:FC as a reboot. Using traditional backgrounds, a mystery will send both across the world, deeper into their pasts, and closer to each other... if it doesn't kill them first. Featuring Pyro & Courier.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** X-Men: Among Thieves  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Remy LeBeau (Gambit) and Rogue featuring Courier, Brotherhood, Thieves Guild, and more.  
><strong>Note:<strong> Story assumes that all movies before X-Men: First Class do not exist and that FC is a reboot. I am going back to more traditional backgrounds (but more realistic for the feel of the films) instead of what we got in the previous films.

**Summary: **Professor Xavier and Magneto have long gone their separate ways in their belief of human/mutant relations and now each vies to build a group of special individuals who would do either great good, or great harm, to the world once the truth about mutants gets out.

But what about those who fall in between?

Remy LeBeau, sometimes called _Le Diable Blanc_, often referred to as Gambit, is a card hustling, smooth talking New Orleans native with a tortured past that would make Shakespeare proud.

The woman known only as Rogue has possibly the most powerful mutant gift of all, the ability to absorb other mutant's powers and memories, but the demons in her closet are much more real than imagined.

Thrown together by fate, their attempt to solve a mystery will take them across the world, deeper into their pasts, and closer to each other… if it doesn't kill them first.

**Tagline: **Only Take What You Can Steal.

Abbie Cornish ala _Sucker Punch_ as Rogue  
>Yvonne Strahovski as Carol Danvers<p>

**Prologue**

A beat up Olds drives by a two story house, the driver taking a second to admire the structure. Not as classy as the homes back down in Mississippi but a decent interpretation of the plantation style. What's advantageous is that each residence had a fair amount of yardage between them.

Distance meant silence, stealth. Her mother taught her that.

Eighteen year old Anna Marie pulled the stolen vehicle into a small park down the road, fall temperatures in upstate New York keeping most people away from the picnic tables and children's play ground. Good, it would be awhile before anyone realized the car was abandoned there, hopefully she'd make it back before anyone bothered to call the police.

Not bothering to lock it, Anna Marie slid her hoodie up like she was a jogger and set out to take in a nice run. One that ended at _her _house.

She set a decent pace, not wanting to stand out, that was the key to deception: act like you belong and others will believe it. More than once on the sidewalk she passed the signs of a normal family life. Bikes in the yard, toys strung about. Even a mother pulling her baby girl from the back of the car as her husband toted bags from the trunk. All the things that could never really be hers.

Finally, as her chest was burning, Anna Marie made it to the house whose address she spent months hunting down.

_She _was a stupid woman, trying to live a normal life in a normal house in the normal upper-class suburbs. All Anna Marie needed was to find the right people with the right information, a name, an address. Almost too easy.

Kicking up off the curb Anna Marie headed towards the back yard, a wooden fence blocking access, but the gate wasn't locked only closed from behind. A little jiggering and a whole lot of attempt to look like she belonged later and she slipped inside. One quick look back to make sure no one saw her… it was three o'clock on a Thursday, normal people should be at work or getting ready to pick up their kids from school.

The back door was locked, that was too be expected as it's the contents of the home people usually didn't want stolen. Hang around enough with her mother's friends and one does learn all manner of useful trades like lock picking. It wasn't her strongest skill but she knew enough to get around a simple dead bolt.

Now, a security system, that's a whole other kettle of fish.

Some family's had board games, Rubik cubes, toys that weren't illegal in all fifty states, but not Anna Marie's. Popping the cover off the control panel as it beeped its one minute warning she found what she was looking for, a hardware connection port. Slipping the small device out of her hoodie's front pocket she plugged it in and hit a button. A few breathless seconds later the beeping stopped and returned to armed mode.

It wasn't the most sophisticated alarm system on the market but then a woman like Carol Danvers didn't exactly need help against possible intruders. A member of the US Air Force, Danvers would have had her fair share of combat training, but that was simply a fine tuning of her pre-existing abilities. Talent's that Anna Marie had seen firsthand, the day that Danvers murdered her mother.

Of course, at the time she didn't know who the tall blonde woman had been who flew away from the scene of the crime… but all it took was the right minds to get into…

Now that she was in the murderer's home with time to spare she looked around at the décor. Modern with just a hint of rustic, a fully equipped kitchen leading into a dining area with a long wood table, a pot of fresh flowers sitting on top. In the corner of the forward sitting room sat a piano though Anna Marie doubted that Danvers played, the item was for show. It's what normal people have, it's what normal people do.

Anna Marie and Carol Danvers were not normal people.

Photos lined across the piano, mostly of Danvers with family, friends. One caught Anna Marie's eye, a smiling Danvers with her bright blonde hair wild in the wind. Next to her sat an only slightly amused but balding man in a wheelchair. Could he have been the one ultimately behind her mother's death?

A crack and a pop later glass from the frame tinkled onto the ivory's. Anna Marie found a place to hide and waited to find out.

.

It had been a long day, as always, and Carol sometimes wished she didn't have to hide her abilities from the world, it would make life so much easier. For the time being though, it was best if she did, for everyone involved.

Tucking a bag of groceries under her arm, Carol left her car in the driveway because she had turned her garage into a work room, who didn't? It wasn't your average work space seeing as she knew things about the government, the military, and certain special humans. She was one of those beings and she felt it was her duty to help others like her, to make sure that once the truth became known that everyone would be able to live in peace.

She sighed as she opened the front door, it was a good dream. One that seemed farther and farther away each day.

On autopilot she tapped at the beeping alarm box and crossed the sitting area to put the groceries on the table. Seconds later she realized that something was off but what? Turning back she scanned the room, everything looked in place… except…

Carol went to the piano and picked up the picture of herself and Professor Xavier, her friend and colleague in the mutant community. The glass was gone and there were marks on the picture where the shards had scraped the image as they fell. She knew she hadn't done this which only meant one thing…

Spinning on her heels she crouched just a bit, ready for whatever attack was to come. But there was no bruiser coming after her, no manic mercenary, just a girl, barely an adult, standing at the entrance of the sitting room.

"You're Raven Darkhölme's girl," Carol uttered when recognition set in. It was the hair, a white streak on dark red, very distinguishable.

The sour look on the young woman's face worsened, "Now yah care about my mother's family," the girl drawled in a southern accent, "didn't really think about that when yah collapsed a building on her."

Carol's jaw tightened a bit, "How did you find me?"

The girl began to tug off the wool gloves she wore, "Just had ta talk to the right people."

Memories came back to Carol, rumors of what Raven's adopted daughter was capable of. "Listen, she was going to hurt a lot of people, she didn't exactly give me a choice."

"Yah always have a choice!" she screamed, her body trembling in anger. "Those people hated us, they'd exterminate our kind if given tha choice. They didn't deserve to be spared."

"Is that what you believe, young one?" Carol frowned, of course it was, it was what her mother taught her. "Killing them only makes us just as guilty of bigotry, we are better than that."

"We _are _better than them," the young woman took a step forward. "Yah may have killed her, but who sent you? Who told yah about the plan!"

"No one," Carol shook her head, "I work for the Air Force. I was already on the base when I realized what she was up to."

"Mother had a lot of enemies," the girl's eyes flickered to the broken photo still in her hand, "am I really to believe she was taken down by chance?"

Sighing, the blonde wasn't sure what to do, the girl was upset but dangerous, and so was Carol, "A body was never found."

"She nevah came home!" she screamed again, tears trickling from the edges of her eyes.

There was a very distinct chance that Raven Darkhölme simply abandoned her adopted daughter, it would be in her character from what Carol learned of the shape changing woman. But in the young red head's highly upset state, it wasn't something Carol wanted to simply blurt out. "I'm sorry, why don't we sit down and talk about all this."

"No," the red head dropped her gloves and pushed up her sleeves, "you're going to tell me who sent yah to take out mother, one way or another."

"You don't want to do this," Carol held up her hands as the girl stepped closer. "I don't want to hurt you."

"More than yah already have?" she smirked and darted forward.

Carol immediately dodged, her feet lifting from the ground as she got out of the way, passing to the left, the hallway to her back. If she was right about what the girl could do with her hands, she needed to stay clear.

"What do you hope to gain," she was getting short tempered, and stayed up about a foot above the ground, ready to dodge again, "you cannot fight me."

"You're right," the girl was hunched over, breathing sharply, hands around her stomach.

It hadn't occurred to Carol that a young woman like Raven's daughter would have access to stun grenades, but in hindsight she really should have known better. The redhead threw the device underhanded from her pitched over position, not at Carol, but past her, into the hallway. It went by so fast Carol wasn't sure what it was until it exploded, sending out a shock of light and sound than knocked her back to the ground.

"Gotcha," the girl breathed, wrapping her bare arm around her neck. Not enough to actually cut off any airflow or be dangerous… only touch flesh to flesh.

It was a sickly feeling, a wooziness, and she knew the rumors were true. The girl was draining her energy, absorbing her abilities, taking in her memories. She wanted so much to give into the encroaching darkness…

No, she wasn't going to have any of it. Reaching up, Carol grabbed the woman's arm and tugged her forward, both of them falling to the floor. Flight wasn't her only gift, she had the strength of at least ten men and she fastened tight on the girl.

"Let go!" the red head shouted and the words echoed through Carol's mind as they hit the carpet. Her mind went fuzzy, there was a reason for not touching the girl… right?

Instinct kicked in as the attacker tried to peel Carol's fingers from her flesh and the military officer grabbed the woman's wrist, flinging her to the side, pinning her to the ground. Darkness encroached on her senses but she was not about to be beaten.

Soon, she didn't have a choice.

.

No, no, no, they usually pass out by now, fall from her arms, it's just enough time to take what she needed and they get away relatively unscathed when they wake up.

"Let go!" Anna Marie shouted as they both fell. She had already held onto the woman longer than she would have liked. Memories flooding into her mind, overwhelming her.

Tugging at the woman's grasp Danvers latched onto her other hand and exacerbated the issue. Next thing Anna Marie was pinned down, more and more of Danvers' psyche flooding into her… along with the blonde mutant's powers.

With her newfound strength, Anna Marie tossed Danvers away from her, finally, but the contact went on too long, more than she ever touched anyone. Anna Marie laid on the floor, breathless, reliving a life that wasn't hers…

.

Carol Danvers stood, a headache screaming through her head. What was she just doing?

Groceries, right. She headed into the dining room and the bag had toppled over spilling out some of its contents. Staring oddly at a broken chair she tried to remember why this was strange.

Picking up the bag and all its contents, Carol went into the kitchen and sat them on the island. One by one she put the items away into their proper place. There was no room on the bottom shelf for the box of cereal so she lifted herself up a bit, just enough to reach the upper shelves. Who needs ladders when you can fly?

As she did this she set some water to boil for a cup of tea. She always preferred a cup of tea after a long day of work, it helped her to unwind.

The kettle whistled right as she finished in the refrigerator, perfect timing. Grabbing a cup from the cupboard, she poured the hot liquid over a teabag and waited for the herbs to seep into the water. She liked to sit in front of the fire place on a day like today, just calm and relaxed in front of a crackling fire. Tea in hand she headed for the sitting room…

The cup fell from Carol's hand, nearly missing the wooden divide between sitting room and dining room to land on the carpet and not break.

Carol stared down at her own body lying prone on the floor.

That's when she remembered…

Pain shattering her head, Anna Marie did as she was taught and pushed the memories of Carol Danvers back into the corner recesses of her mind. The psyche of Danvers screamed and fought but in the end it was Anna Marie's body, her thoughts, she had home court advantage.

In a panic, Anna Marie snatched up her gloves, quickly slipping them on in ease from years of practice and leaned over the downed woman. It's hard to find a pulse through gloves but she wasn't looking to check Danvers' blood pressure, just make sure she was still alive. The blonde's chest rose and fell evenly, naturally, and that was a good sign.

Standing back up she didn't know what to do. Her mother was gone. Danvers hadn't been lying, she could see from the stolen memories that it had been chance she caught on to her mother's deception. Now the blonde woman was out cold with a distinct possibility of never waking up again.

Anna Marie ran to the phone on the kitchen wall and snatched it up, quickly hitting 911. Dropping the receiver to the ground it wouldn't take long for dispatch to figure out who was calling and send out a patrol call. It was a trifle act after what had just happened, but it was the only one she could make. There was no reverse switch on her powers.

Running out the back door, Anna Marie started to feel sick, not sure where to turn or what to do. Her mother was gone and the Brotherhood was basically disbanded in the wake of her disappearance. Anna Marie's feet lifted from the ground unnaturally and almost sent her spinning.

What did her mother always say, control, the power is yours, push the emotion aside and take control. A deep breath later and Anna Marie continued to rise smoothly into the sky. High above Carol Danvers house with no home of her own to speak of, Anna Marie realized she had only one option, become a rogue agent in the ever increasingly dangerous world of human/mutant relations.

How convenient… since the world only knew her as _Rogue_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I'm not going too heavy on writing Gambit and Rogue's accents because they can become harder to read, readers are welcome to give the characters as thick of an accent as they wish.

Ian Somerhalder as Remy LeBeau (Gambit)  
>Matt Bomer as Courier<p>

…

**Chapter One**

_Latvia – Eight Years Later_

"Remy," the sharply dressed man with a neatly coifed hair cut and cheap six hundred dollar suit asked casually, "have I told you in the last ten minutes how much I hate you?"

There was a chuckle from the slightly disheveled man standing at his back, "Yes you have, mon ami."

"Good," Jacob resisted the urge to straighten his tie, he could feel it was crooked and if he was going to die today he wanted to go without a single hair or piece of cloth out of place.

"Search 'em," barked one of the fifteen security men, mercenaries more likely, who currently had Jacob surrounded in the courtyard his friend had lead them into after the handoff did not go as planned. Each of the dangerous looking men had assault rifles drawn, not a sight the courier considered pleasant at all.

"Watch the suit," Jacob grumbled as he was given a rough pat down. The merc wouldn't find anything, Jacob never carried a weapon and why would he? He was the essence of neutrality. It was the man standing behind Jacob that was questionable on a good day.

A bruiser with a badly set nose held Jacob's briefcase in his hand. "Locked."

"We'll take care of that later," said the leader, his weapon trained on the bigger threat.

Jacob's merc finished patting him down, "This one's clean."

"This one has something up his sleeve," another spoke and the courier tried to hide a smirk.

"What?" the lead merc just had to ask, didn't he.

"Cards," the other responded, a likely confused look evident in his voice. "They aren't even high cards."

"Dey for a magic trick, mon ami," his friend said lightly, "wanna see?"

They should say no, they should always say no, but no one could ever resist.

The neatly dressed man risked turning his head to look over his shoulder as his Cajun companion flipped two cards between his fingers expertly as if they were coins. An eight and a nine, these lackeys were clearly only worth a three and four.

There was a sizzle, a sound Jacob knew well from his long friendship with the man, and it was his cue… to drop into the fetal position and stay out of the way.

Jacob Gavin Jr was not a coward, he's stood tall in front of all manner of dictator, sycophant, and lawyer, but his strength came from his complete removal from the situations he found himself in. He was a courier, _the _Courier. You needed a message or item delivered safely and securely between friends or enemies without even a hint of reproach, you called him.

You wanted something stolen… with style… then you called his friend, Remy LaBeau. Of course, this meant that the Cajun thief got himself out of a jam with equal panache.

Jacob squatted, not wanting to get dirt on his suit, after all it may be cheap but he loved the pin striping on it. He held his hands over his head to protect himself as LaBeau's biochemically charged playing cards hit their marks, exploding with the trapped kinetic energy he put there thanks to his mutant abilities. Watching the feet of the men around him four went immediately down as another was slammed against the wall of bodies.

A couple of mercs managed to get shots off but Jacob had no doubt they missed their target. LeBeau must have gotten his Bo staff back, a walking cane that extended into a full quarter-staff, and there was a brush of air as his friend vaulted over him, taking out two with a kinetically charged kick.

The Louisiana native laughed, "Mind if I have dat back?"

There was a thud and the quick patter of combat boots on stone. Jacob thought it might be over, but one never presents themselves as a target until they are sure they won't get shot.

"All clear, mon ami," his friend was decidedly cheery, his Cajun accent always a little thicker in his jubilance.

Giving it a second, Jacob stood and brushed down his clothes, taking in the sight before him. Fourteen mercenaries laid unconscious on the ground around them, a few with charred breast plates but most simply knocked out by LeBeau's quick and powerful punches. All would recover, it wasn't the Cajun's style to do more than lay a man out in a fight.

Remy LeBeau didn't look like he should always end up on the winning side of a bar brawl, his slightly taller than average height and medium built lent itself to more of a lover than a fighter. LeBeau fancied himself both. Born with an angel's smile and the devil's eyes, they say the New Orleans native is the greatest thief in the world. _Le Diable Blanc_ he's been called, "The White Devil", but due to his affinity of playing big and far from safe, those who knew him best tended to call him _Gambit_.

"You enjoyed that," Jacob admonished, finally able to fix his tie.

"Dey started it," the man shrugged, retracting his staff and dusting off his trench coat.

One of the mercs groaned and Jacob didn't exactly panic but assess the situation. "We should get to the airport."

"Aye, mon ami," LeBeau grabbed the fallen briefcase and the two of them headed out of the courtyard.

Grabbing a taxi, their original transport having been disabled, Jacob called ahead to make sure his jet was ready to take off as soon as they were on board. The two managed to reach the plane without being followed, well, that Remy could tell and Jacob was apt to trust his friend on such matters. Both quickly rushed on board and the steward closed the door behind them.

"Are we all clear?" Jacob asked as he moved to the forward sitting area, meeting the co-pilot halfway.

"A runway's been left open for us," said the man, an elder balding gentlemen with a sharp disposition.

"Are we cleared through customs?" the Courier turned back to the steward, Mr. Winlet.

"We were never here, sir," the equally sharp man answered. Jacob could not abide sloppiness.

"Good," he nodded appreciatively, "then we best be off."

"Very good, sir," the co-pilot moved back towards the cockpit and Jacob handed his briefcase over to Winlet who would stow it safely until they landed. Trust, that was another absolute requirement of any member of his staff.

Jacob collapsed into a seat, his stewardess immediate offering him a gin and selzter. "Thank you, Leena," he took the glass gratefully. LeBeau may have done all the work but just watching his kinetically charged friend wore him out.

"And you, sir," Leena, a bright enough girl to keep her mouth shut about company business but trapped by the gift of long legs and long blonde hair, moved to serve LeBeau a scotch and whiskey, her tone decidedly different towards the Cajun.

"Why, thank you, cheri," LeBeau's deep-red colored irises sparkled at the girl and she practically swooned as he lifted his drink from the platter.

"Oh, I kept it safe for you," Leena leaned across the Cajun to reach the man's hat, a type of fedora known as a Trilby, a rich man's hat in England and a soft brown to match the trench he favored wearing. The trilby happened to be strategically placed just behind the thief and the stewardess afforded both men a nice view as she fetched it.

"Much obliged," LeBeau winked as he took it gently from her hands and flipped it back onto his tousled brown locks.

At first glance Remy LeBeau looked like a man just kicked out of a bar after a fight, which, honestly, did happen a lot to the Cajun. He tended to wear a brown suit, the trench and hat, but usually a bright silk shirt, purple or blue, all kind of thrown together.

But there was nothing haphazard about his friend. While he might not tuck in the shirt or get a decent hair cut, the clothes fit him perfectly, his permanent scruffy chin always trim, even his hair was organized chaos. He was the most well put together ruffian on either side of the Mississippi.

Remy LeBeau was a walking contradiction and sadly, that's likely what charmed women the most.

"Leena, you should get ready for takeoff," the steward called from the rear cabin before Leena had a chance to fall into LeBeau's lap and possibly stay there for the rest of the trip.

At least the girl knew her duty and immediately straightened herself and headed to her takeoff position, though giving a back glance at the Cajun, who of course gave her another wink and smile.

Jacob sighed, sipping at his drink, "You're incorrigible my friend."

LeBeau simply grinned, shrugged, then relaxed into his seat. It was an hour later when Jacob was on the plane's satellite phone when the thief pulled the item from somewhere deep in his jacket and began to unconsciously flip it through his hands.

The Cajun thief wasn't ever far from a deck of cards, whether he was winning at a game of poker or charging them into weapons, but this one was difference, special, old, worn at the edges and ever so crinkled. It was years after their friendship started that the thief even felt comfortable enough to let Jacob know of its existence. Not that LeBeau actually mentioned it outright, simply felt no need to hide it. One day Jacob was going to ask his friend why that card, the King of Hearts, was so important though he doubt the man would give him a straight answer.

The Courier knew Gambit for almost ten years now… but he barely knew his friend at all and he was sure that was exactly how the mutant thief liked to keep things.

…

A limousine greeted them at the Parisan airport and quickly trekked them through the City of Lights, in the middle of the day. Still pretty though.

They pulled up to the Hotel Regina and Jacob let LeBeau exit first, the man scanning for more threats. Instead the Cajun threw a smile at two women who were waiting for their bags to be loaded into a car. Jacob gathered the coast was clear and joined his friend on the curb, briefcase in hand.

Within minutes they were ushered by guards to a fifth floor suite where a dark skinned Italian in a suit slightly cheaper than Jacob's sat waiting.

"Ah, so it is done?" the Italian spoke in pretty decent, if accented, English.

"Signore," Jacob nodded politely, flashing a grin that while not as disarming as his friends, had been known to get him places. The Courier sat the briefcase down on the table and turned it towards the client, popping the lock so he could open it in one smooth gesture. LeBeau wasn't the only one who knew the value of style.

"Ah, good work," the Italian grinned, running his hands over whatever was inside. The contents were none of Jacob's business, LeBeau had already placed it in the briefcase before they met up and he had enough faith in his friend not to double cross him.

An awkward moment passed as the Italian enjoyed the sight of what was in the briefcase a little too much, but eventually he cleared his throat and closed the top. A snap of his fingers and one of the guards moved forward to collect the case and take it away, likely to be placed in a safe.

"I heard there were trouble, no?" the client asked.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," LeBeau said casually, leaning on his cane as if he was Fred Astaire.

"There was fighting, explosions," the Italian gestured in the air, "the theft, it was noisy, it did not go unnoticed."

"Signore," the Cajun accent made the word sound funny, "you paid me to steal for you, never said anything about how quiet it had to be done."

"If I may," Jacob held up his hand, diplomacy his strongest skill, most days, "you hired Mr. LeBeau to… procure an item for you any way he could and then I was to deliver it safely here to you. Those were the only stipulations and both were met."

LeBeau let out a little chuckle, that tended to worry Jacob in situations like this. "Dem last guards where da fifth batch and spoke mighty fine English of da American variety, military drop outs the lot of dem, says mercenaries to me. I'm betting our Italian friend here knew dere was extra security at the villa, dat it wouldn't be an easy score."

The Italian played a good bluff, but Jacob and LeBeau's were better. "Yes, well, I was told it could be… complicated."

"You must have figured on more dan just complicated," the thief mused, never breaking eye contact with anyone in the room was a remarkable feat in and of itself, "cause you could have called on da Thieves Guild, but instead you asked for lit'l ol' Remy LeBeau."

"Yes," the Italian said in frustration, "the greatest thief in the world they say you are, yet, what did your own Guild do to you, exclude you? Um, Ostracate?"

"Castrate?" Jacob added cheerfully earning a dirty look from the Cajun.

"Excommunicate be da word you're looking for," LeBeau was not amused.

"Yes, that," the client rubbed his chin in thought, "now, why would a Guild excommunicate their most valuable member, I wonder."

LeBeau's trademark smile came back to his lips, "I imagine I deserved it."

"Yes," the word trailed off but the Italian was smart enough to know that he had gotten as far as he would in this line of discussion. Jacob hadn't gotten much father himself.

The tanned gentlemen waved over another guard who pulled a folded over manila envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to LeBeau.

"Courier," the client spoke up, "your money will be wired to your account momentarily for your part in getting my… 'trinket' to me. LeBeau, liquid assets, as you requested."

LeBeau took the offered item and weighed it in his hand, checking the balance. With a satisfied shrug he slipped it into his trench's inside pocket without counting the contents. The Italian looked like he was about to question the move but then shrugged his head.

To be honest, the money could have been short a million dollars and LeBeau might not have cared, well, not that much anyway. Jacob figured out long ago that it was never about the money.

…

"Will you be staying in Parie', mon ami?" LeBeau asked as they exited the Hotel and waited for the limo to be pulled around.

"I have three courier assignments lined up for the end of the day, my friend," Jacob slid his phone into his pocket. "You're welcome to catch a ride to New York, avoid immigration and customs authorities. InterPol is still looking for you."

"Always are," LeBeau shrugged, the limo finally being pulled around, "but I enjoy da challenge."

"Suit yourself, Remy," Jacob turned and offered the man his hand. The two gripped at almost the elbow and nodded to each other. "Try to stay out of trouble, would you?"

"Why don't you try to get into some," he bantered back, "aye, mon ami?"

Jacob shook his head and released his grip, life was definitely more interesting with Remy LeBeau around. "Vous voyez autour de, friend."

The driver of the limo opened the door to the rear passenger's seat but before Jacob could take a step closer, the steward from the plane stepped out. "Begging your pardon, sir."

"Yes, Winlet?" this was only a tad peculiar.

"Package arrived for you at the airport through the courier service," he held up a folded letter of thick parchment, "actually it is for Mr. LeBeau and I thought it best to bring it around in case the gentleman would not be joining you."

LeBeau leaned slightly forward, an almost kiddish move. Though, LeBeau never seemed much able to sit still. Jacob gathered it had something to do with the mutant's access to real and potential kinetic energies. "For moi?"

Sure enough, Remy LeBeau was written in strong penmanship via a classic fountain pen across the top of the parchment. Where the paper folded over it was sealed by wax with a very familiar emblem.

"That's the seal of the New Orleans Thieves Guild," Jacob said as LeBeau took the item and proceeded to look it over, test it for, what, traps?, before he was going to open it. "How was this contracted?"

"Regular contract, standard rates," the steward answered.

"Probably didn't even know we were working together," Jacob mused, "easiest money I ever made."

LeBeau was ignoring him, slicing open the seal with his thumb. Laws of civility, and a dose of curiosity, kept Jacob in his spot until the man read the short letter. True to the thief's nature, his expression never changed nor showed any emotion regarding the contents.

"Mon ami?" LeBeau asked when he was done, "Mind dropping me off in London, if not out of your way."

The Courier thought about it for a moment, then sighed, "Sure, why not, but I'm not your taxi service."

"Of course, mon ami," his friend's smile was entirely too broad.

…

**Author's Note: **Courier's first line of dialogue was stolen, erm, borrowed, from the comics because it was just too perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews guys, always appreciated! I am basing my initial concept off of Gambit Limited 1 and some Unlimited 1, but this is by no means a retelling of those stories as I'm taking the film's more realistic approach, i.e., no Tithing storyline.

James Nesbitt as Henri LeBeau

**Chapter Two**

_London - Westminster_

A man walked down a paved walkway which took him around the famous fountain of water nymphs at Queen Mary's Garden's in London's Regent Park, though this time of year it was turned off due to the cold early-February temperatures. He was a simply dressed man, slacks, polo, a light jacket, nothing to make him stand out one way or another from the tourists and Londoners alike. For a person of his trade, this was the strongest weapon he had, well that and his tendency to check behind him every minute or so.

Henri LeBeau was older than his adopted brother, thinning on top, and nowhere near as stylish, but that suited Henri just fine. Thieves don't like to be noticed, any thief other than Remy that is, and Henri was more than happy to hide in his brother's shadow in that respect.

Several more casual steps later and he reached the meeting point, a foot bridge over a creek which ran through the park. A couple of tourists where moving on from snapping pictures, and no sign of Remy. Perhaps he was early, maybe Remy was late, if asked, both where there exactly when they were supposed to be.

"Mon cher frère," a voice called from behind him.

"Knew you were there," Henri chuckled as he turned. Once upon a time Henri would only pretend that his little brother could get one over on him…

"Course you did," Remy smiled and moved forward, capturing Henri in his interpretation of a bear hug.

"Good da see you, little brother," the older LeBeau smiled, hugging the man tightly. "It's been too long."

"It has," they pulled back and took stock of each other. Remy likely noticing Henri's continuously thinning hair and only slightly widening middle. He was doing less stealing and more politics lately, it was having an effect. Didn't help he was built like his mother.

His brother was just as he always was, half a shade ruffian and two shakes a scoundrel, but he wasn't as troubled looking as he had been the last time they had met, though only Henri would notice such things. Perhaps his little brother was finally getting over the past, not that it was an easy thing for anyone to overcome. Remy's mutant abilities made him tougher than most, but then it's hard to break something already broken.

"So," Remy was grinning, "how's da family?"

"Mercy's good," Henri smiled at the thought of his wife, as he always did. "Lifted a Picasso from dat collector in San Francisco a few months back, anniversary present."

"Heard about dat," his brother chuckled, "thought it be Mercy, had her style."

The two of them took a second to enjoy the moment but they both knew the only reason for a face to face meeting was never for good news. "Father is thinking of retiring."

"Is he now?" it was a stalling statement, casually spoken but made to mask the silence as Remy's mind ran the consequences of that statement through his head and Henri let him.

"Hasn't said it directly to da Council," Henri eventually admitted, "but you know father, he doesn't let any rumors run about he doesn't want da be dere."

Remy nodded slightly, "Dat would make you heir to da Patriarch position."

The older man gave a half laugh, "It's not exactly hereditary."

"No one gonna challenge ya," and his brother was right. "You'd make a great Patriarch of da Thieves Guild. Congratulations."

"Don't congratulate me yet," Henri sighed, leaning against the railing, there was too much going on, something wasn't right in New Orleans and he hadn't figured out what. "I think father might be having pressure put on him."

"By who?" Remy said too quickly, giving away his hand. The younger man may not be on the best of terms with his father, but it was still his family. "Marius?"

The Patriarch of the Assassins Guild would have been Henri's first thought too, but, "Non, don't believe da Assassins Guild has anything to do with dis."

"Would be da first time," his brother scoffed.

"Da truce has been strong since…" Henri trailed off, last thing he wanted to do was bring up that old memory. "I don't think anyone in da Guilds themselves want to see a return to how it was before."

"Da Assassins be da only ones to gain from instability," Remy said just as quickly, and as much as he loved his brother he sometimes did jump in head first and brain last.

"Maybe not, mon frère," Henri ran his hand through what hair he had left. "Been doing some investigating, looking at both Guilds, transactions, contracts… things ain't adding up."

Now his brother decided to take a moment to think about what that meant. "Hostile takeover?"

"Da New Orleans Guilds are two of the oldest, last, remaining guilds," Henri nodded, "da world is changing, many would see us gone, or repurposed."

Remy let out a low sigh, "Father and Marius, dey won't let it happen."

"Exactly," Henri glanced out over the water, the garden a peaceful place, and for a moment he considered bringing Mercy there next time they were in London to steal from the Museum. His thoughts then turned back to the problem at hand. "Yet father is thinking of retiring and Marius hasn't been much active lately in Assassins' Guild work from what I hear. Someone has gotten to both of dem."

Another silence settled between the brothers.

Eventually Remy asked, "What you want from me, Henri?"

"I…" he took a slow breath, "I don't know. But if I recall, you always were da one better at getting out of a pinch, course, you were also da one getting us into trouble… but if da Guild is gonna find itself in difficulty—"

There wasn't so much pain as enormous pressure. A swelling unlike any other that pressed against his back and tore into him, driving the air from his lungs.

"Henri?" Remy's voice trembled, it never did that, must be bad news. "HENRI!"

The older man pitched over into his brother's arms as another thud pressed into him, this time he choked, the cough spilling flecks of blood onto Remy's shirt as the younger man helped him to the ground and out of the line of fire.

"No, non," his brother mumbled, but he could see it in his eyes, as much as he could feel the life leaving his body, this was it. Not the way he expected he'd go, but when you're a professional thief, you can't be too terribly surprised when fate puts two bolts into your back.

"Stay with me Henri," Remy pleaded, cradling him in arms, his normally red irises darker, deeper and angry…

"Protect dem, mon frère," Henri managed through half a lung, "protect da family."

"I will, mon cher frère," there were hidden tears in his brother's eyes and Henri knew Remy would protect the family, protect the Guild… and with that his last thoughts were of his sweet, sweet Mercy.

Good thing he was dying, otherwise she'd kill him.

…

Remy LeBeau, _Le Diable Blanc_, held his brother in his arms as he took his last breath on this Earth.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Henri was the cautious one, the smart one, he'd live a hundred days to Remy's one, so why now was he dead, two painfully obvious cross bow bolts to his back?

Memories came flooding to the forefront, a painful wound torn open and made worse.

This was family.

…

The assassin hit his mark, twice, at least one lung punctured, the liver as well, assessment was a sure kill. Contract fulfilled, time to move on.

The crossbow was a bit bulky but it was a requirement of the contract and he had plenty of practice with the somewhat archaic weapon. A new modern design allowed it to collapse easily and slide into a large messengers bag. Now all he had to do was casually slip away like a member of the crowd.

That's one thing thieves and assassins had in common, both were perfectly happy simply blending into the world, did their best work that way too.

There was a brush of leaves and whistle of wind. Instinct led the man to duck as an item went flying over his head to partially imbed into a tree before puffing out in an explosion.

Remy LeBeau.

It was risky to take the shot while the brother was there but that too had been part of the contract, that's why he was paid extra.

That's why now he ran.

Another charged playing card flew at him and he dodged, running down a path towards his escape route. Outrunning the younger LeBeau was not an option, his profile had him listed as athletic and quick, but he was mad as hell and that would make him prone to mistakes.

Avoiding open areas the assassin dodged through a worn path, trying to put distance on the Queen Mary's Gardens and get into the urban district just beyond and to the south. He'd have a better chance at loosing LeBeau that way.

Sirens called out in the distance, either the body had been found or LeBeau's explosions were attracting attention.

Moving from the park to the city proper, the man ran to the end of the street and turned into the colonnades of Park Crescent. True to its name, the column-lined structure wrapped in a crescent, cutting off visuals after a thirty degree angle. The assassin ran down the stone walkway in front of closed doors and an almost empty street. This time of day the students that lived in the housing complex would, should, be in classes. Not the best ambush point, but he worked with what he had.

Turning on his heels he pulled a .45 Beretta from his shoulder holster and raised it ready. LeBeau should be coming into sight any second now.

Assumptions had been made about the extent of LeBeau's abilities, one of which was that like all card throwing tricks, it was about line of sight to hit the target, or at least knowing where your target was. If he lived through this, he'd have to correct the dossier.

A series of cards whipped around, following the curve of the colonnade, shining brightly, propelled by the mutant's kinetic charging of the thin paper. The assassin ducked but as he dodged to the left another suit followed closely on the heels of the others and struck him in his armored chest and arm, knocking him back against a column.

However, a good assassin never loses grip of his weapon. He brought the gun to bear as LeBeau jogged from around the columns, card in hand. The thief dodged the shot with almost inhuman speed and a charged Ten of Diamonds slammed into the assassin's wrist, kinetic energy stunning the nerves and the weapon falling from his fingers.

The younger LeBeau grabbed the assassin and pushed him hard against the column, his red irises full of fury, "Who sent you!"

The assassin didn't answer, he isn't supposed to.

This didn't make the other man happy and LeBeau threw him against another column, this time the stone cracking, "Were you after me?"

"Heh," the assassin couldn't help himself. "I never miss target."

"Russian," LeBeau said the word spitefully. "Why would your Guild want my brother dead?"

That was all the man was going to give the upstart thief.

"Tell me," the Cajun's voice got lower and suddenly the assassin could feel a tingling all over his body.

A glance down and his clothes, his holster, belt, everything, was starting to glow an ever so soft shade of pinkish-purple, the color of LeBeau's kinetic energy. The color slowly grew, deepening, starting to move from prickle to painful.

"Tell me," it was clear the man was not going to ask a third time.

Sirens again were heard, possibly coming towards them due to the gun shot, maybe heading to the park. Either way, by the time anyone found the assassin he could be literally shook apart by the mutant's kinetic energy, like he had held a concussion grenade to his chest.

He gave in and would deal with the consequences later. "I given contract. Kill Henri LeBeau with crossbow when comes to England to meet brother."

"Did your Assassins Guild issue da contract?" LeBeau asked, the energy still growing.

"We only take contract," he shook his head, "don't know who originally issued."

"No, you're just da trigger man," there was a deep malice to the Cajun's words and for a moment the assassin was sure he was dead.

"AH!" the mutant thief screamed and the energy channeled out of the assassin's clothing into the column behind him, bursting the marble into a shower of stones that struck against his back, sending them spiraling to the ground.

…

DCI Walters starred down at the scene before him. A man, mid to late thirties, no identification, laid on the ground with two crossbow bolts in his back.

"Don't see many of them anymore these days," his DI commented.

"No, you don't," he agreed, the whole thing a bit strange. It was the type of killing that was meant to send a message, but what, and to who?

"Sir," a young female DI came over, dispatch radio in her hand, "the disturbance at Park Crescent, looks like a couple of grenades went off. Bobbies picked up a man, had a crossbow in his bag, no ID, and not talking."

"This should be interesting," the other DI did like the sound of his own voice, Walters figured that out awhile ago. "What you think, some kind of mafia hit or gang thing?"

"Maybe," Walters frowned, experience causing him to scan the crowd that had gathered on the banks of the creek behind the line of policemen keeping everyone back. Too often a criminal likes to spy on his own handiwork.

Very few things in this world surprised the veteran cop. He often said he'd stared into the eyes of the devil himself in all his years of interrogating perps from across the table. But none of them held a candle to the eyes of a man standing on the bank. He was too far to really know for sure, but Walters could swear they were red, deep and angry, the kind of eyes that haunted a man until they came to collect his soul.

"Should we let them take the body now?" the DI moved next to him.

"Huh, yeah, go ahead," Walters practically blinked and the devil was gone, maybe he had never been there in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I know, it's not traditional, but I gave Pyro mad-hacking skills because someone on the team should have them seeing as this is probably late 90ish? and most computer geeks I know are pyromaniacs themselves so it seemed to fit.

Jesse Spencer as Saint-John Allderdyce (Pyro)  
>Tom Felton as Pietro Maximoff (QuickSilver)<br>Wentworth Miller as Dominikos Ioannis Petrakis (Avalanche)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_St. Petersburg – Three Weeks Later_

This time of night, the twenty-four hour news was about the only show on worth watching when he got off the late shift. "And London Metropolitan Police are set to answer questions today how the body of the John Doe involved in a possible terrorist attack on London's Regent Park simply vanished shortly after arriving at secure facilities."

Vladislav scoffed, "Stupid English."

The lady behind the counter handed over his cold sandwich which would do for a late night snack. He thanked the woman and then set towards home. The night was cold, a northerly wind breezing down the thoroughfare. At least it was a straight shot to his apartment, then he'd be nice and warm.

A soft sounding voice rang off a few expletives just in front of him and he saw a woman on her knees next to a small car trying to gather the contents of her purse. She was lithe, not too skinny, from what he could tell of her jeans which fit her nicely formed rear end. A fur half-coat covered her top so he couldn't be sure of the rest of her. But what kind of woman would be out at that time of night on a weekday?

He had been warned about situations like this.

Still, her lipstick was stuck in a crevice behind her, she couldn't see it. Glancing around they were alone and there was no way he could be ambushed, it was the worst place for one. He'd see any approach for at least a kilometer.

Perhaps if he got to know this lady just a little, it wouldn't be so bad.

"Fräulein," he said as he picked up the lost item, she straightened and turned towards him.

"Da," she took his offered hand and he helped her to her feet, she frowned a little at his gloves, perhaps they were too rough on what looked like delicate skin. He then showed her the cosmetic and she smiled, "Oh, thank you, thought it got away," her accent was off, not a native of St. Petersburg, that was obvious.

Chuckling softly, he placed in her hand. "I rescued it for you."

She smiled and he realized she was very pretty, sharp features that accented high cheekbones and a dazzling smile. It was hard to tell in the light from the street lamps, but she had dark red hair, long and wavy with a white streak. Perhaps a punk rocker of some type.

"My hero," she laughed, slipping the lipstick into her bag. "Think you could help me with one more little thing before you disappear into the night?"

He glanced around again, still no one around, so, "Da."

"Excellent," she reached up to touch his face in a completely non-threatening manner, "don't think about your passwords."

That's the last thing he would remember until the next morning.

Never fails.

Rogue touched the guard's face and instantly absorbed his memories but she didn't want to have to wade through them. Surface thoughts always came more easily when her mutant ability kicked in and she started to drain the essence of whoever she touched.

She also didn't want to hold contact too long, the Russian wasn't a mutant and didn't have the buffer of powers to keep from sending the man into a coma. Pulling her hand away the guard began to slump backwards. In a flash another man in a silver racing-style jacket with hair to match appeared standing behind Vladislav.

"Easy, big fella," Pietro kept the man from falling and leaned him up against the car. "You get it, Rogue?"

Blinking a few times, Rogue sorted through the stolen memories, the worst part of her power, seeing and feeling things that she knew wasn't real to her… but they felt like they should be. Taking what she needed and planting it firm she pushed everything to the back of her mind where it couldn't bother her.

"Yah, they always think of their passwords when ya tell them not ta," she took a couple of deep breaths as she snatched her gloves from her pocket and slid them on. "Let's get him into the car."

She wasn't going to leave the poor man out in the cold all night, not after what she had done to him. Earlier she put a pillow and blanket in the stolen vehicle for this part of the job. Vladislav would look like someone catching a snooze, or the car thief. Either way, he'd be warm and out of their hair.

"How long you think he'll be out?" Pietro asked as Rogue tucked the blanket around the man.

"I dunno," she answered honestly, the effect, while generally the same for human versus mutant did vary marginally from person to person. "Long enough, I suppose." Tossing the bag and the impractical fur coat into the passenger's seat, Rogue grabbed the tight brown leather jacket she preferred from where she stashed it in the floorboard.

"Well, that'll have to do," the quick footed mutant locked the doors, threw the keys on the seat, and shut the door. "Your chariot awaits, madam."

Rogue sighed, zipping up her jacket, "That's really getting old."

"We're on a deadline," the silver haired man held out his arms with a grin and Rogue let herself be swept up heroine style into Pietro's arms. She hated it but the mutant could run faster than she could fly and the clock was indeed ticking. The mutants ability to run fast, a fact that earned him the nickname QuickSilver, got them across St. Petersburg in seconds and he stopped on a dime, or a ruble, whichever, not far from Catherine's Palace just outside a maintenance access point for a building across the street.

Slipping inside, a hole was cut into the ground, rope ladder hanging off the side. Pietro ran down and Rogue jumped, hovering and lowering herself the considerable distance. Her comrade swept her up again and they covered the quarter mile slope in mere seconds to meet up with the other two men who once made up the now defunct Brotherhood of Mutants.

"You get it?" Pyro asked, his Australian accent a bit worn from his time spent in the company of so many international people, just as Rogue's Southern Belle was turning into more of a Southern Handbell.

"All his passwords and login codes for today," she affirmed, "but he's only a level four tier."

"That's all I need," he grinned. Pyro was an easier name to roll off the tongue than Saint-John… and beside the man was hardly a saint, none of them were. "Dom's already made us a way in."

Pietro leaned up against the newly made wall, "Didn't set off the seismic alert systems this time, did you?"

"That was years ago," Dominikos grumbled, the man's gift laid in the ability to generate and control seismic waves hence his nickname of Avalanche.

"I still have the scar," the quick mutant muttered.

"Pietro," Rogue really didn't want to get into this, "let it go, deadline remember."

Dom laughed, then touched the rock face and the group watched as the stone and then the concrete block wall behind it practically disintegrated in front of them. "Seismic alert systems only track what don't belong, not the natural shifting of the Earth."

"Nice," Pyro nodded appreciatively, grabbing his duffle bag and ducking into the room.

"Nothing natural about that," Pietro almost pouted as he followed.

The small alcove was a security hub for the underground complex, placed against a barrier of solid rock. The designers probably figured by the time someone managed to tunnel that far they would be noticed… of course they probably didn't have mutants in mind at the time of construction which began centuries ago. However, Catherine's Vault had some of the most modern upgrades.

"Right," Pyro found an access computer and plugged his laptop into it. "Top notch security we have here."

"Can you crack it?" Pietro asked.

"With the codes Rogue took from the guard," Pyro played for a second then smiled, "easy."

The quick footed mutant nodded, snatching up a radio ear piece before heading to the door, "I'll get to position alpha."

"Watch out for wet floor signs," Dom grinned.

Pietro gave the man a dirty look then disappeared out of the door in the blink of an eye. The seismic mutant laughed and the other too had to smile as well. The group had been together for a long time in one way or another, from way back when her mother brought them together to learn how to control their powers. They were a Brotherhood, friends, even a family of a sort, and they got things done when they managed to 'put the band back together'.

"Alright, Rogue," Pyro tapped at the keys, "what's the tier four password?"

She rattled off four words in heavily accented Russian.

"Yeah," he stared at her, "you're going to have to spell that for me."

"It's in Cyrillic," she added.

He considered that for a moment then stepped aside, his hands doing their best Vana White impression towards the laptop.

Rogue tried not to laugh and moved to the access computer's keyboard, complete with Cyrillic characters. Taking a second she took a long deep breath and focused on the memories she had stolen and categorized moments ago. Had she been able to see her reflection clearly then she would have noticed that after she shut and open her eyes, their green color had turned the deep brown of Vladislav.

Fingers tapped away and followed the command codes that were so familiar… familiar to Vladislav, not Rogue, but they felt right as she pressed down on each key. It was a phantom emotion which took over her fingers and fell into an old routine.

There was a ping and Pyro moved back to his laptop to do more of his computer magic while Rogue followed the command prompts for passwords when they came. It was only seconds later when Pyro let out a little whoop, "And we are in, sorta, close enough."

Rogue shook her head, pushing away Vladislav's memories, cramming them into the back of the bus where everything else belonged. There was a little sharp pain in her temple, a not totally unusual occurrence and went unnoticed by her comrades. Her eyes resumed their normal color.

"Guards just finished their walk through and I put the alarm on a test run, we can set off all the laser grids we want and no one will notice," Pyro left the computer and went back to his duffle.

"And the cameras?" Dom asked, passing out radio ear pieces.

"Looped the last ten seconds," the pyromaniac pulled his compact flame thrower from the bag. Most designs had a cylinder full of a sticky, napalm like, substance used to control and direct the stream of the flame. Pyro didn't need to worry about such things and sacrificed the extra weight. It as a glorified jumbo pocket lighter, really.

"Yah think you'll need that, Pryo?" Rogue wasn't even sure why she bothered asking.

"You know me, Rogue," he slipped it on and clipped the clasps shut, "might come in handy."

"Yeah," she frowned, wrapping the ear piece around her ear.

…

The security system was compromised.

Distraction was in place.

One could just sneak in and out like a shadow on the wall.

That was kinda the idea.

…

"Okay," Pyro's voice came over the radio but Rogue could hear him clearly as he walked next to her, "remember, I only disabled the connection between the lasers and the alarm system. Some of the pressure sensitive cases are closed circuit. You trip them, the room shuts down."

"So don't bump into anything," Pietro replied via the radio, "got it."

"We have fifteen minutes until the guard's next rounds on this level," Pyro continued his on-the-go brief.

"Seems like a long time," Dom commented, "if the stuff in this Vault is as important as we're to be believed, security would be tighter."

"They don't expect anyone to make it down this far," Pyro admitted, "the guards are concentrated on the upper levels, the energy grids keeping the likes of Pietro out are there, you'd have to insane to try come in here top down."

"Don't expect someone to come from the side," Dom laughed, "not through a quarter mile of solid bedrock."

"Not in only a couple of hours," Pyro gestured to take another corridor and Rogue followed his cue even though the layout was still stuck in her head.

The ceilings were just a little shorter than average, the compound having been dug out centuries ago and later converted to hold much more merchandise. Some rooms had walls lined with moving document shelves like found in lawyer and doctor's offices. Others had precious items, books, and jewels in clear cases. It was a regular high security museum.

"You know," Pyro talked quietly as they went through several more shining metal passages, "back in World War II, the Nazi's took St. Petersburg, well, Leningrad as it was called then, just to get to this vault."

"I know, they ransacked the place," Rogue nodded, she had heard the story many times before, "carted away a whole room of Amber and promptly lost it."

"True, but they made up for what they lost," the two stepped into one final room tucked off to the side, not much bigger than the average public restroom, "with what they found," several metal crates emblazoned with Nazi symbols were stacked against the far wall, each coded with several digits and numbers, "and they stored it here."

"Where it was forgotten," Rogue continued the story, "passing into the hands of the original Vault Keepers who took back control once Germany surrendered."

"They sold or returned most of the Nazi's stolen art and artifacts," Pyro slipped a piece of paper from his pocket, double checking the numbers, "but the Keepers didn't know what to do with the rest, so they left it."

The Australian pointed to a metal locker in the middle of in the stack. Rogue grabbed the two on top and while they were heavy, thick metal, made back when these things were meant to last, she had no problems lifting the containers and moving them to the side. There was nothing but a standard heavy lock on the aforementioned case and instead of picking it, Rogue grabbed it and wrenched it off.

"Handy those powers never faded away," Pyro commented as he lugged open the lid, taking the mutant more effort to do so than it had for her to break the lock.

"Let's just hope Pietro and Dom are having an easy a time of it as we are," Rogue wanted to scowl at the man but he was right, the powers she had absorbed from Danvers had come in way too handy over the years. Her mother always theorized that a longer contact would lead to a permanent absorption of the mutant abilities, but Rogue never wanted to find out because she feared what it meant for the person she drained.

And she was right to fear.

"We'd hear about it by now if they weren't," the bright red headed mutant started to pick through the old paper files that were stacked neatly in the case, worn and yellow from age but relatively protected from the elements and therefore in fare condition.

"These files," Rogue glanced over them, catching a few words in German here and there, "completely forgotten to time, I wonder how Magneto found out they were here."

"Probably the same way he figures everything else out. Here we go." Pyro pulled out two files and slid them into a heavy plastic bag which he slipped inside his own heavy denim coat. "Shall we."

"Yeah," the Southern native dropped the lid then proceeded to stack the lockers back one onto another. The lock was broken but she tucked it back on and unless someone was paying attention, which by the layer of dusk in the room no one did, then their theft would go relatively unnoticed. Well, until they found the big gapping tunnel outside.

"Beta team cleared," Pyro called over the radio, both of the mutants heading out the door.

"Alpha team cleared," Pietro came back, "on our way back to the tunnel."

"Meet you there," the Aussie clicked the radio off and they rounded another corner, going through a larger room, one where several jewels stood on podiums.

There was a whistle of wind and a flash of movement that wasn't their friend and the mutants stopped in their tracks.

"What tha…?" Rogue barely got the words out of her mouth as she looked down at the podium between her and Pyro, an Ace of Clubs stuck in the base of the glass. Had either of them taken the time to really look at the card, they would have noticed a trace of purplish energy traveling down the edges of the large black club as if it was a fuse of some sort.

Instead, both mutants immediately looked to the source and saw a shadow detach from the wall… tall, dark and annoying. He tipped his hat, perfectly timed with the card exploding in only a small puff of kinetic energy but enough to trip the censors.

"Cajun!" Rogue ground out through clenched teeth as alarms began to blare and she shot off into flight mode down the length of the room.

The thief didn't move, just continued to grin at her as she raced to beat the dropping containment wall. Rogue managed to catch the edge before it drove through the ground because once it did she would have no hand holds to work with. This time she strained, leveraging against the floor to push the metal against the heavy pistons driving it down. She just had to hold out long… enough…

With a hiss and whine from the hydraulics she won the battle, pushing the wall up enough let Pyro and herself slip through.

"Where'd he go?" Pyro asked, checking every exit.

"Why's that snake thief here is a better question," she grumbled. The few times she'd ever met presumably the world's greatest thief he was causing the Brotherhood trouble in one way or another.

"Hey, guys," Pietro came over the radio, "what just happened?"

"Gambit happened," Pyro answered, his annoyance as deep as hers.

"That's not good," Pietro sometimes couldn't help but state the obvious.

Suddenly the lights dimmed into red emergency mode and more sirens set out through the complex.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for the reviews! This is my first X-Men fic so your words are very much appreciated!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Catherine's Palace_

A pack of guards, dressed down in heavy SWAT gear, flak vests, and assault rifles at the ready, jogged down a hallway to a double door.

"{At the level three access stairwell}," the squad commander spoke crisply into the radio.

"{Intruders on level six}," a voice came back.

"{How did they get down there?}" one of the men asked and the commander gave him a sharp hand gesture.

"{Join up with Bravo team,}" the voice on the radio continued, "{apprehend if possible, terminate if necessary.}"

"{Understood,}" and with that the leader made several more hand gestures and with military precision the six member team went through the doors and down the stairs covering every corner and ambush point as they went.

After they were well on their way to confront the thieves breaking in downstairs, a man in a brown trench coat walked brazenly down the hallway, twirling his cane as if he was on a Sunday stroll.

…

They made it two rooms before they came across the first dropped wall.

"They're cutting off access points," Pyro slammed his hand against the thick metal, "can you get through it?"

Rogue punched the heavy, thick steel, barely denting it. "Titanium and carbon-polymer enforced, probably, and I'd say at least a foot thick. It would take me time."

"Time we don't have," her friend clicked the radio. "QuickSilver, status."

"Was able to zip me and Avalanche through before the doors went down," the silver haired mutant came back breathless, "I swear the man _eats_ rocks. Where are you?"

"Not so lucky," the Australian's eyes darted around as he thought about the situation for a second. This was his mission to command, Magento put him in charge and Rogue knew he had the whole thing planned out perfectly. "Go ahead and get out, they'll find the tunnel soon enough and looks like we'll be finding another way."

"I can come back for you," the quick footed mutant suggested.

"No," Pyro shook his head even though the man couldn't see it, "you'll never get past those energy grids, remember? I can disable them from this side to get us out."

"Alright," Pietro didn't sound exactly happy but he knew, they all knew, there was no point in the whole Brotherhood getting caught when a job went south. "I'll stay in radio range if you need me to come back."

"Sounds good," Pyro clicked his radio and glanced over at Rogue with that look people sometimes get when they hope someone in the room has a plan.

"This way," Rogue took the lead, Vladislav's map still in her head. There were many reasons the Vault was a death trap for anything more than the most experienced thieves, one of which was, "They drop tha walls in a pattern, ta funnel us to an ambush zone."

"And we're heading _towards_ the ambush?" he questioned while on her heels, keeping pace.

"Want out don't yah?" she called back, taking a corner at another dropped wall then skidding to a stop.

In front of them they could see an access stairwell but flanking the walls were a dozen security men dressed to the nines in the latest combat gear. Trying to walk, run or fly through that would be suicide, the smart choice would be surrendering.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Rogue asked her friend.

Pyro nodded and grinned, "I'm thinking Phoenix."

She moved behind him and started to check out what he was wearing, the best way to get a grip on him. There wasn't much to work with, heavy denim jacket, jeans to match. "That oversized Bic of yours got the juice?"

"Told you it'd come in handy," he clicked at the nozzle of the flamethrower, fire leaping out in what at first seemed like uncontrolled, random flickers, almost dying out immediately…

That was just getting the fuel through the line, once the stream started there was no stopping the mass of fire that built from the nozzle and hand of the mutant pyromaniac. He had a strange relationship with the natural element, both a passion and respect that only boarded on the psychopathic, never crossing… most days.

Within seconds the two mutants were wrapped in licking flames which sought oxygen from outside the circle. Rogue grabbed the man around his waist, making sure no clothing bunched up to reveal either's skin.

"Watch mah hair!" The two lifted into the air only about two feet, but it was enough and she sped them down the hall. She couldn't see from inside the fireball but she knew Pyro, he had a, erm, flare for the dramatic. From the scattering sounds and random rifle fire, the mutant was giving the men a show, a Phoenix or more likely a Dragon breathing fired down on them, whipping its wings over their heads and threatening to catch everything ablaze.

As they approached the exit the firebird stayed behind and the two passed through unscathed. Hitting the doors, Rogue quickly shot up to the next landing, lugging the Australian along.

"Damn it," Pyro practically growled as they went through the doors, "I forgot no more than two floors share the same stairwell."

"They call this place a death trap for a reason," Rogue squeezed the door handles together so they would overlap and catch each other, only gain them a small lead time. "And we got five more floors to go."

More security appeared at the end of the hall and the two mutants exchanged looks.

"Eh, we can take 'em," Pryo grinned.

…

Two floors up, Remy LeBeau stood in front of a door. He punched in a code written on the face of a Three of Hearts which he had won two days earlier in a poker game. The man who had given it to him didn't think too much of it, after all, even _Le Diable Blanc_ wasn't dumb enough to attempt to steal something from the third level of the Catherine Vault.

Besides, he needed a matching key card from one of the Vault Keepers who never, ever, left the Vault.

Slipping a different playing card from where he kept them concealed under the sleeve of his coat, Gambit began to charge it with kinetic energy. Five of Spades, with a swipe it went through the card reader, exploding halfway down the middle and sending a magnetic discharge through the system as the reader cracked. With a pop the lock disengaged and the thief was in.

This room was fairly long, racks upon racks of moveable shelves squashed together. What he was looking for should be towards the front being that it was new. Seconds later LeBeau pulled a file folder from a shelf, the papers top hole punched and clasped inside. Flipping it open it was what he wanted but he didn't have time to look over it, his distraction would only last so long.

Folding the file he tucked it into an inside pocket of his trench and he walked from the room. He was leaving so much behind, information that could end nations and start wars… but a good thief takes, a great thief only takes what he can steal.

Outside, the hallway was still disserted but he could hear the faint sounds of gun fire and shouting. He had no doubt the two Brotherhood of Mutants members would be able to find their own way out of the mess he had dropped them into.

Adjusting his trench, trilby and biker-style fingerless gloves, Gambit started to walk away in style from one of the thefts of a lifetime.

The sprinkler system went off sending gallons of water pouring down on him.

Nobody needed to know about that part in the retelling.

…

"That's the exit!" Rogue shouted she kicked a guard against the wall next to the access door to the first floor of Catherine's Palace. The man would be knocked out but otherwise survive.

Pyro grappled an assault rifle from the other remaining guard standing and butted him in the head with it, sending him down. Her fire friendly friend was a bit less lax in caring what happened to non-mutants but he knew that Rogue would only work with the Brotherhood if they only used lethal force if absolutely necessary. They didn't know exactly why she was so prudish about the subject but they gathered it had something to do with having the conscious of someone she pretty much murdered still floating up there in her brain.

And they were right, the situation tends to have an effect on a person.

Soaking wet they exited into a small maintenance room, a gloried broom closet really which hid one of the secret access points to the complex below. They opened the door and started out into the Palace proper. "The grounds will be crawling with guards," her friend said.

"Then we'll fly," Rogue barely managed to get the words out when guards from another ambush position opened up on the two of them and they ducked back into the room, the door stuck open from the bullets that now riddled it. "Damn, where they getting all these guys?"

Pyro didn't quip back.

Rogue looked down to see the pyromaniac prone, shot in the shoulder. "John!"

He mumbled something incoherently, half dazed, but at least he was still alive. After that important fact was confirmed, she saw the fuel tank on the flame thrower was punctured and the fuel was spilling out, splashed across the floor and down his clothes.

A grenade came flying into the enclosed space and while Rogue was near invulnerable even this was questionable… and her friend certainly couldn't survive it.

Within a heartbeat Rogue snatched up the explosive where it fell and chucked it back through the open door. It exploded only feet from the entrance sending a shock wave and bits of shrapnel through the narrow opening. The mutant was already moving towards Pyro, snatching her glove by her teeth and dragging it off. She knew what was going to happen next.

The spilled fuel from Pyro's pack ignited and the flames leapt high, running back towards the source. Rogue ran her hand across the mutant's face and in an instant she finally understood…

Fire is elemental.

Fire is primal.

Fire is beautiful.

She turned her now blue colored eyes towards the flames that were coming for them and they were nothing to be afraid of… only respected and beloved.

Stopping the flames from advancing Rogue took the one free moment she had to rip the fuel tank from Pyro's back. A quick deep breath and she could feel the heat of the fire inside her, beckoning her to play.

Oh, she was going to play all right.

…

The squad commander of one of the last remaining cadre of security forces watched as the grenade exploded in mid-air, a gutsy move by the two thieves inside but ultimately a wasted effort. The resulting explosion set off the flammable liquid that they had brought with them, a lucky shot having pierced the tank on the back of the male.

"{Ready to advance,}" he said through their radios, waiting for the flame to disperse.

Before his eyes the flames stopped, not died out, simply stopped moving forward to consume the fuel, content to sit and eat at what was left. It was an unnatural sight.

Seconds later the fuel tank came flying out of the room, spilling petrol as it went. The flames leapt up, following the dripping trail until finally making contact. With a burst of heat and an expanding crack, the tank exploded in a fireball, shards of the metal and plastic container flying through the air. The fire itself spread out into a large bird, an eagle maybe, and swooped down on them.

Instinctively the men ducked, some sending shots into the belly of the flaming beast.

There was a crash and the commander turned his head in time to see a shadow fly out of a newly broken window.

…

Rogue flew almost straight up, making sure to zig a bit in her zag in case there were snipers. Pyro was passed out, slung over her shoulder like the wounded comrade he was. She only needed a second to get her bearings, figure out which way was west.

An attack helicopter swooped by, but the sudden jerky movements were tell enough of the pilot's startled realization that hundreds of feet in the air, a woman floated when she couldn't possibly be doing so. Rogue took that opportunity to make her escape, shooting off as quick as her will would let her. The copter swooped in pursuit but she easily ducked in through the buildings where a machine could never go and made her way down dark alleys.

"Everyone," she said into the radio, "we're out, return to the safe house."

…

"Oww!" Pyro moaned as Pietro used his skill to stitch up both sides of the wound. Whoever said quick was painless obviously never knew a mutant who could break the sound barrier.

"It's a through and through, you baby," the silver haired mutant rolls his eyes, "count yourself lucky that pocket lighter of yours didn't blow up on you."

"It was my spare too," he frowned, now he'd have to start from scratch and build a whole new flame thrower. Shouldn't be hard to find parts through, not in Russian where you can buy ex-Soviet goods on the cheap.

The local safe house the Brotherhood was using was an old, sparsely furnished, dwelling but out of the way and off the grid. Pyro sat at a butcher-top table while Pietro worked on him. Rogue and Avalanche stood around, making sure that they didn't need to find a doctor to make a 'house call'. Thankfully he lost little blood thanks to the wet denim that acted as a temporary bandage and compress.

"You'll live," Pietro put a bandage around his shoulder then patted him on the back, a little too hard perhaps, and packed up the emergency kit.

"Think Magneto will be mad that we didn't get in and out unnoticed?" he attempted to slide his button up shirt back on, it was cold in the house, no heater, and he hated the cold.

"He'll be fine," Pietro didn't seem fussed, "they'd have notice the tunnel eventually and this way maybe they will think we took whatever Gambit was after."

"Yah know," Rogue had walked up to the table and lifted herself to set on the edge, a plastic jar of Vegemite in one hand, spoon in the other, "anyone else bothered by tha fact that crawdad got one over on us?"

"Hey!" Pyro watched as she ate another spoonful of the dark semi-solid, "you know how many stores I had to go to around here to find that?"

The only female of what was left of the Brotherhood pointed the spoon at him, "I saved your skinny Australian hide back there, and all I got to show for it is a craving for this…" she looked into the jar, "you know, I don't even want to know."

Before the pyromaniac could say anything, Pietro moved away to stow the kit in his duffle bag, "It did feel like Baghdad all over again, but at least this time we came away with what we went there looking for."

"How did he know, though," Rogue asked as she took another spoonful of the spread. "Who could he have talked ta?" the second question was slightly muffled.

Dom cleared his voice, having been silent the whole time since they came back, "I saw him, two days ago, at an underground poker game while I waited for the rest of you to arrive, but I told him nothing of our plans."

All eyes turned to the man, not reproaching, they were far too much like family to do such things, but that didn't stop them from getting in a few jabs. Of course, Pietro was the quickest to the punch, "You spent more than five minutes in that man's company and didn't try to kill him, or at least punch him? You got played."

"It was just a friendly poker game, Baghdad was ages ago," the tanned man defended, referring to the incident where they first met the Cajun thief who promptly made fools of them all, "and I swear I told him nothing of the Vault, he never even asked about it."

Pyro looked over at Rogue who had also glanced at him, seems she had the same thought on her mind. The two turned back to their friend and said the word together. "Played."

"Avalanche, my friend," Pietro consoled Dom, patting him on the back, "don't worry about it. But next time, do us all a favor and before he has a chance to say two words, drop the floor out from under him."

"I will," Dom growled and picked up his duffle bag from the floor, they had all packed before the job so they could make a quick getaway, not expecting an impromptu surgery. "Keep your wound disinfected, Pyro," he said before disappearing out the front door.

"Yuck, ugh," Rogue slightly pitched over at her perch, "oh yeah, that's worn off now, here," she shoved the Vegemite container at him, "How can yah eat that?"

"Well," Pietro slung his duffle over his shoulder and put the courier bag with the stolen files around his neck, "I should be going, Magneto is expecting me in Brussels before 9:00am. Pyro, try not to pull the stitches."

And with that the man was gone in a flash of silver light, the group was not really big on goodbyes in any way or shape. Considering all of their backgrounds, Pyro supposed this was about as functional as any of them were ever going to get.

"Yah know," Rogue dangled her legs back and forth, "if he hasn't left St. Petersburg by now then he'll be sticking around for awhile, probably ta sell whatever he took."

"Huh?" it took the Australian a second to realize she was talking about the Cajun, "maybe. I'd just let it go."

"He got yah shot," she pointed out, always a little defensive about the pseudo-family.

"Like this is the first time I've been shot," he shrugged which hurt more than it should, "but I don't hold a grudge, he was there to steal, so were we, he won this round is all, though more like a tie," he started to scoop up some of the yummy spread, "anyway, we'll get him next time he tries to get one over us. He's not really worth the hassle to chase down."

"Maybe," she hopped off the table and went over to her own duffle sitting on the floor, "doesn't hurt ta check where tha biggest underground games will be played tonight though. Make sure you keep clean bandages on that wound, Pyro."

With that she disappeared through the door and Pyro was left sitting at the table with nothing but his jar of Vegemite and a bum shoulder.

Eh, he'd been left in worse situations.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five**

_St. Petersburg_

Twelve establishments so far and nothing for her trouble except three broken hands, not hers, but of the guys who got too close and couldn't take no for an answer. She'd try one more seedy club before calling it a wash.

Slipping a few rubles to the bartender, she discovered the back room was running a high stakes poker game, at the table was an American with a funny accent. Could be anyone, could be the Cajun, wouldn't know until she had a look for herself.

Following directions around back she stayed close to the bar, away from the throngs of dancers with their arms flaying about. Just a light brush against her cheek was enough to at least send the person to the ground dizzy and that would only cause a scene. Besides, she had enough thoughts in her head, she didn't need to add more if she didn't have to.

A bouncer at the entrance was easily bought off and she walked down the hall to the last door on the left. The room itself was fairly big in size, enough to hold a poker table, wet bar, a sofa and chairs. Several scantily clad women sat around, hanger-ons who likely hoped to go home with the highest winner. Smoke hung heavily in the air from two men who puffed on cigars. At least three bodyguards immediately eyed her as she walked in, assessing if she was a threat.

She was of course, but only to the man who specifically positioned himself with his eye-line to both the door and back entrance so that he could be at a tactical advantage.

"Ah, cheri," he acknowledged her almost immediately, folding his hand.

"Gumby," Rogue replied back, the Cajun pausing ever so slightly at the name but then grinning as the winnings went to the player across from him. He didn't seem bothered by the loss as he had a fairly decent pile in front of him.

"Well, gentlemen," he directed to the other players, hat tilted low on his head, "looks like Remy only has a couple of hands left in him, if da lady permits."

"Give me whatever yah stole," she added casually from across the table, "and you can keep playing as long as yah merry content."

He picked up the cards dealt to him by the player to his right, Rogue kept a good watch on the mutant's hands. "You don't even know what it is I stole, petite,"

"Got to be valuable though," she reasoned, shrugging as she stood with her gloved fingers tucked in her pockets. It wasn't particular cold in the room, not exactly hot either. The fact she always had to wear gloves, long sleeves, and usually a jacket or scarf to cover her neck, meant she got used to being a few shades of warm all the time. "I'm sure I can figure something out. Besides, sugah, I'll have it, and you won't."

"Is that all cheri wants from Remy?" he asked as he traded in three cards. "A little revenge for a little fun had?"

"Yah _fun_," she used the word loosely, "got my friend shot."

"And I take dat as we're attempting a civil conversation he'll pull through just fine," he made a face at the cards in his hand and threw down to fold, "you're bad luck, petite."

"Good," she smirked, trying to figure out what the Cajun's end game was. She only really knew the man from reputation but they had crossed paths a few times when she did work for her Brotherhood pals. Each time usually ended up with a lot of cursing and occasional punching.

The round ended and the player to Gambit's right went to hand him the deck. "Oh, no," she quickly and loudly said, "you skip a deal, Gumball."

He tilted his head in a slightly bemused way then shrugged, letting the deck get passed to the player on his left. "Cheri, would you believe ol' Remy here if he said dat it was all nothing personal."

"Believe? You?" she scoffed, "Why would I believe anyone who tends ta refer to himself in tha first person?"

The Louisianan native laughed, grinning with a smile said to be a gift from the angels themselves, Rogue couldn't see the resemblance herself. "I did wait until you and yours got what you came for, I wasn't dere to cause trouble for da Brotherhood… dis time."

"Oh really?" she wasn't convinced and watched as he took his cards, frowning at them, not much of a poker face.

"Really, cheri," he threw away three cards and got three more, "I was already going to break into da Vault, had me a plan and everything," he grumbled at his new cards.

"Let me guess," she was getting impatient, wondering if she should have just come in swinging, "yah only needed a distraction."

"Of course," he threw his cards down again, a Three of Clubs on top, then glanced up at her fully so she could see his eyes from under the brim of his hat. There was talk that Gambit had more than just a gift at controlling kinetic energy, that his red-iris eyes had the Devil's own charm etched into them and could make even the most stalwart soul want to make a deal with _Le Diable Blanc_.

Hogwash is what she thought of that.

"A good thief makes a plan," he continued, sitting up to emphasize his words, "a great thief, now, he knows how da improvise."

The cards he tossed onto the table exploded, not massively but enough to send poker chips flying, women scattering, men shouting, and the guards into protection mode. The Cajun was quick and Rogue cleared her eyes from the flash in time to see him run through the back exit. Taking off after the thief she wasn't going to let him get away with what he did that easily.

"Should have saw that coming, Rogue," she mumbled as she burst through the door.

Immediately scanning she saw the Cajun disappear over the roof of the next building. She kicked off the ground and sped up past the two stories to get a good view of the industrial area where the night club was located. It was dark, shadows everywhere, but she had the upper hand of being able to fly over the buildings and peer down, not something LeBeau would be used to hiding from.

There was a slight rustle and movement to her right, like a predatory animal she honed in and immediately flew after it.

The Cajun was sneaking around a large industrial cooling unit and she dropped in front of him, throwing out a punch which he parried away with his cane now extended into a Bo staff. Two more punches and he blocked those as well, but he lost ground, backing up to keep her from connecting. She threw out a kick and he caught her foot but was unable to trip her up, only used the situation to spin around out of her direct line of attack. A jab with her elbow almost caught him but he managed to slip away again, just barely grazing him.

"Stand still, ya mudcat," she shouted at him, using the colloquial name for a cat fish, one of the most slippery fishes to be found in the freshwater rivers and lakes of the South and Mid-West. Point of interest, it's also one of the ugliest.

"And let you connect with dat super strength of yours, petitie?" he laughed, once again blocking her expertly as she rounded on him.

Rogue feinted a punch and kicked out at his leg, he moved away in time but left himself open and she slipped in a jab at his stomach which sent the thief flying twenty feet to slide across the roof. His staff tumbled from his hands and she stepped on it so he didn't get any bright ideas. "Yah mean like that?"

"Ow, cheri," he said through winced teeth as he gripped his side, "you wanted Remy on his back, you only needed to ask."

Rolling her eyes, she moved forward to finish what she started. With a flick of the man's wrist two cards came flying at her and she didn't really dodge. She had learned that with her semi-invulnerability they stung but nothing much more than that. Rogue blocked with her arm and shielded her eyes from the explosion, then took off running after the escaping Cajun.

Quick as a rat he hopped off the roof, bouncing from one wall to another until he hit the alley and raced away. The Southern gal kept on her pursuit, trying to avoid the mass of wires that were hung between the buildings and the collapsed fire escapes which made flying difficult.

Eventually the snake charmer made a mistake and ran into a blind alley, a two story brick wall, no fire escapes to climb, or un-barred windows to dive through, just some trash, a security light, and no place to go.

"Smart move there, Gumbo," Rogue grinned as she blocked the entrance.

The man turned, flicked his hand… nothing happened and he let out a curse in French. He was out of cards to play, literally.

"Now," she tugged off a glove, "you're gonna give me what yah stole, one way or another."

The Cajun looked around, assessing his situation and after a second he straightened up so she could see his eyes, "Tell you what, cheri, I'll give it to you… for a kiss."

Rogue raised an eyebrow, could the man be that dumb? "Yah do realize my absorption abilities covers _all_ of my skin, and I can't control it, I kiss yah and it's lights out."

"The way I look at it," he spread his hands out beside him in an almost surrendering gesture, "I'm going to end up passed out in dis alley one way or another, I'd rather have fond memories of soft lips dan a few broken ribs for my troubles."

The look on her face was likely priceless, and she couldn't exactly argue with the logic, but still, "Yah serious?"

"Remy's always serious about da ladies," he grinned and winked at her.

Rogue shook her head, "Now, why don't I trust yah?"

If possible, that grin became broader, wider, and dare she admit finally a little short of dashing, "Because, mon cheri, you have a heighten sense of self-preservation."

"Yeah," she nodded, considering his words, "that would do it."

"Fret none, petite," he again splayed his hands, "I give you my word as a thief dat I won't try anything, won't fight ya, so long as you keep your end of da deal."

She thought about it for a moment, again unsure at what game this King of Thieves was playing, and whether she would be playing for or against it if she took him up on his offer. Still, if she did drain him, she'd not only get the item but also its value and an idea of what to do with it. "What does tha word of a thief go for these days?"

"A good thief you can trust not to cross you," he informed her with a dead serious tint to his voice, "a great thief can always keeps his word."

"And you're 'the greatest thief in the world'," she smirked, putting the words in finger quotes.

"Well," he gave a timid shrug, "I do like to brag."

A chuckle escaped her lips as she came to her decision, "And here I thought only Pyro liked ta play with fire."

He lightly chuckled in return and Rogue slowly approached him, eyes darting from his hands, his feet, his body language, and it all spoke to her of a man who was simply standing there, not tense or ready to pounce. Still, when she got close enough, she grabbed him by his wrists and had she not chosen that moment to look up at the thief she would have noticed a couple of cards tumble out of his sleeve onto the ground.

"Come on petite," LeBeau said softly, "where's da trust?"

"Left it in Mississippi, muskrat," she had been so focused on making sure that the man continued to not be a threat to her that she only now noticed how close she had gotten to him. Though she was wearing a leather jacket she could feel her body brushed up against his and just how powerful of a build the thief had on such a nimble flame. He smelt of the Cajun world he came from, spicy and husky, not exactly unpleasant.

"Don't be thinking of cheating me, cheri," he warned playfully, his red-colored eyes sparkling and she became torn between kissing him on the lips or the cheek. He never said where but a full on kiss had been implied.

Lips are very sensitive areas and that made the absorption process much quicker and dangerous, she could easily put the man into a comma. Would serve him right.

He was a little taller than her so she had to tip on her toes and he dropped his head down so that their lips would connect. The Cajun tasted as rugged as he looked with a hint of whiskey on his breath that only heighten the tingle she felt at the contact. With her mutant curse, a simple kiss like this was a luxury she could hardly ever afford and she savored it, even if it came from such a questionable source.

Within seconds her ability kicked in and she felt the essence of Remy LeBeau flow into her. She could see, feel, and practically taste the movement of the world around her. Every atom shook with real and potential kinetic energy, the world unable to function without it. It was a power that was now hers to control.

Then came the memories, a virtual grab bag of what just happened to be in easy reach, foremost was the Cajun's pleasure at stealing a kiss from the untouchable, beautiful, Rogue.

As always, the victim of her powers went unconscious and fell back from her, breaking the contact after not even a minute. She let him fall to the ground on his own, he didn't deserve her care.

"Guess it was worth it, huh, cheri," she said, her southern accent slipping a bit into the Cajun dialect.

Remy LeBeau, greatest thief in the world, lay passed out on the ground almost peaceful like.

Sorting the stolen memories she leaned over him and went through his pockets, her hands instinctively going towards the hidden King of Hearts. As she held the worn card in her hand a spike of emotional pain drove through Rogue's heart and her eyes turned red before she could shake it off. She didn't dare touch the emotions again, they were too volatile to be worth the trouble, but the card meant something to the Cajun and that was enough to steal it.

Slipping it into her jacket she then went for the item that Gambit had taken from the Vault. Folded in a bottom inside pocket of his trench was the inch thick file. All the jewels and whatnot in the Vault and he only took a file?

Rogue flipped it open and attached to the contract was a dossier, a color surveillance photo neatly placed on top.

Images from three weeks before assaulted her mind, memories of the man, Henri, her brother, no, LeBeau's brother, getting shot and dying in her arms… his arms. Memories of LeBeau's anger at the contract he stole not giving him any more information than another lead to follow to the person or persons responsible.

"Oh, Gambit," she whispered.

…

Rogue sat on a milk-crate she had found amongst the trash with a deck of cards in her hand. Gambit had them stuck in one of his many pockets. She stared at the simple object and willed energy into it, storing a potential kinetic surge before tossing it towards the brick wall with an expert flick of her wrist. Again, it exploded on impact with a soft puff, she wasn't charging them very much, doing this more to pass the time than to do any damage.

The Cajun started to sit up from where she left him, scratching at his head as if he had awoken from a midday nap. "You don't exaggerate, cheri, lights out indeed."

"How do you get the charge to delay?" she asked, flicking another card only to have it again discharge on contact.

"Don't absorb it all den, petite?" he said the words curiously before standing, snatching up his hat and dusting himself off, "Takes lots of practice, more dan you'll have to play with my powers."

The thief was right, she'd have maybe another hour or two of being able to affect kinetic energy before it faded away. But learning that skill wasn't why she stuck around, she looked up at him, "You wanted me ta kiss yah."

He laughed, flipping the trilby onto his head, "Dat's generally the idea, cheri."

"No, I mean," she stood so she could confront the Cajun, picking up the file from her lap where she had kept it, "yah wanted ta make sure I absorbed yah memories, that I saw what happened ta yah brother. Tha only thing I didn't catch was why."

"Did you read da file?" he gestured to the papers in her hand.

"Yeah," she held it up so he could take it back. "I didn't know tha Moscow Assassins Guild stored their contracts in tha Catherine Vault."

"Few do," he admitted, taking it and slipping it back into his trench. "Moscow was subcontracted through de Tokyo Assassins Guild, but dey didn't issue de contract either."

"It got funneled around until someone would take it," she figured that much out herself reading the contract. "Why? And why Henri, not…"

"Why not me?" he gave her a bitter smile, "Dat's what I'm trying to find out."

Again, this was obvious to her, but why did he want her to know what he was doing? "I don't know anything about what happened, I didn't even know yah had a brother."

"Didn't think you did, cheri," his smile turned conspiratorially, "but you _can_ do something dat would come in very handy to me, you can fly."

Rogue was a little taken aback by the fact he said fly and not 'absorb memories' as that was usually what everyone asked her to do as part of the plan, followed by punching things very, very hard. "Why yah need someone who can fly?"

"De Toyko Guild keeps all their files and information in their headquarters," the Cajun explained, a laughing grin on his face, "makes da Catherine Vault look like an evening soiree."

"And how would I be able ta help yah break in?" she questioned.

"You wouldn't," he shrugged easily before grinning broader, "but I know someone on da inside who will tell me what I want to know, for a price, but not money."

"Ah," it was making sense now, "yah planning a heist."

"And dere I was, figuring it all out when you walked into da room," the Cajun's eyes twinkled at the thought, "as I said, a great thief improvises."

"Ugh! Yah let yourself get trapped," she pushed him, not hard enough to knock him down but enough to make her feel better. "Yah snake thief!"

"Don't take it personally, cheri," he kept that stupid grin on his face, chuckling, "and besides, I'll pay you, twenty percent above standard rates for da kind of job I have in mind."

The Southern gal gave him a sour look, "Well now, why didn't yah lead with that?"

"Would you have taken da job if I had offered it?" he asked.

"No."

"Would you have even listened?" he added.

"No."

He stepped forward into her comfort zone, "Would you have believed me if I had told you dis was about my brother?"

She took a second to think that one over, but ultimately, "No."

Gambit gave another little chuckle and fixed his hat before walking past her, "Manhattan, sundown, two days from now, corner of Worth and Broadway, and bring dat card you lifted off me, I'll be having it back."

"I never said I'd take the job, Cajun," she called after him.

He glanced over his shoulder, "Sure you did, cheri, still here aren't ya?"

Rogue could have just thumped the man on his noggin but he disappeared around the corner so instead she shouted, "Well… you're not getting your card back!"

It could have been her imagination but the man's deep chuckle traveled back to her, taunting her.

She stood in the quiet of an alley, dead of night, nary a soul around, after practically making a deal with the devil. Yeah, she was totally played, "Like a freaking fiddle."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I'm so glad you guys like my characterizations, so awesome, thank you for reviewing! Rogue I'm trying to go for a 'Like Mother, Like Daughter' using the FC Raven's characterization and what she would impart onto an adopted daughter. As for Gambit, for some reason I see him as Neal Caffrey (or James Bond) meets Spike Spiegel meets Harry Dresden (from the books, not show)… whatever happens here, don't underestimate him. ;-) And unfortunately this is the last we'll see of the Brotherhood for awhile, but they haven't been forgotten, they'll be back. :D

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

_Manhattan - New York City_

It can be hard to tell when exactly sunset comes to the City that Never Sleeps, but like a good Southern gal, Rogue went with the Farmer's Almanac to judge such things and therefore found herself on the corner of Worth and Broadway as the sky darkened from pinks to blues. The wind kicked up and she was tempted to turn up the collar on her leather jacket as her hair was in a ponytail and the cold was creeping in from the light dusting of snow still on the ground.

She wasn't sure what kind of heist the Cajun had in mind and so was dressed for just about anything. Lightweight, not clunky, combat boots on the feet, almost form-fitted black cargo pants on the legs, loose enough for movement, and a long-sleeve dark green cotton shirt. Her gloves were expensive, handmade of the finest supple leather. Sturdy but thin as to allow her greater movement and flexibility for anything delicate without her having to resort to taking them off.

It would also make it easier to strangle the Cajun if this was some kind of set up.

"Cheri," the voice came from behind her and she didn't let it be shown how much it bothered her that the thief had managed to sneak up on her. "Punctual, like dat in a woman."

"Next time I'll be late," she threw back, turning to face him.

He chuckled, grinning down at her from under the brim of his hat, "I'll keep dat in mind, petite."

Rogue was pretty sure she would end up smacking him if they kept this conversation going, so she got down to business, "What's tha job, Cajun."

"See da tower dere," he used his cane to point up at a rather tall apartment skyscraper, a not too uncommon sight in the city, "top five floors belong to a rather rich fellow who is a little miffed dat I've… divested him of several valuables over da past few years."

"I bet," she snorted, checking out the design of the building, the tallest structure in the area, mostly glass exterior, non-opening windows of course, possible balconies for the penthouse. "So, what, yah want me ta fly yah up there?"

"Save your strength, cheri," he started to walk down the street, like any other dapper gentlemen, can tapping lightly on the ground, "you follow Remy, when he needs you, you'll know."

"Okay, yeah," she waved her hands in a 'no-go' gesture, "if we're going to work together, yah need ta stop referring ta yourself in tha first person."

He paused, glancing back at her, "Why don't you start calling me by my name, Remy, instead of dose loving nicknames, huh, cheri?"

She chewed on her lip, thinking it over, "How about Gambit?" Yeah, she could live with that.

"Deal," the thief continued walking down the street and she had to jog to catch up with him.

They headed to an alley next to the building, he picked a lock on what looked like a storm shelter in seconds and lifted the door, "Ladies first."

She raised an eyebrow at him but ultimately shrugged and dropped down into the darkened room, prepared for anything. Nothing immediately attacked so she pulled a small mag-lite from her pocket and shown it around.

"It's always tha closets," she mused at the familiar sight. "I ever build a lair I'm putting attack drones in all tha maintenance and storage rooms."

"Smart fille," Gambit commented as he joined her, "dis way."

They went through a door and down a short hall, stopping at the corner. She stashed her light and peaked around him to see moving cameras slowly scanning back and forth. "How many of those we have ta get through?"

"Enough to get us to da security room," his face was intent, watching as each of the three cameras swung on their arms.

She was almost afraid to ask, "How far is tha security room?"

"Two rights and a left," he practically mumbled back, still watching for any pattern, "stay close to me cheri, we gonna have to time dis right."

For once she wasn't going to make a snappy retort, not only could she tell the seriousness in his voice but she also agreed, they didn't have QuickSilver's speed, they had to do this the old fashioned way.

"Now," he gave her no other warning but she didn't need it, years of survival training in the Brotherhood had taught her the value of quick and decisive action.

She ended up latching onto his arm so she could follow his movements better as he both sped up and slowed down, trying to stay in the camera's blind spots. They made it through the first right without a problem, ducking behind a large cabinet that someone had left in the hallway. Gambit took a second to judge the cameras in the new hall before setting out again.

Their steps were light, almost musical in their attempt to move to the beat of the camera's motions.

One more right and now they were stuck in a small alcove where a building strut jutted out of the wall, it felt too easy though she supposed not many thieves were as quick on their feet as the Cajun. She had to cheat now and again and use her flight ability to be dragged along. Give the man props, he knew what he was doing.

"One more corner," he mumbled, concentrating, "dis one is da trickiest."

Rogue had no doubt he was talking from experience.

"Okay, we can't do dis one together," he finally seemed to agree with himself on the assessment, "blind spots aren't big enough. Think you can follow in my footsteps?"

"Well, anything yah can do, I can probably do at least as well," she said with a straight face and the thief turned his head to stare, a look fused between confusion and bemusement, "Hey, I'm just a realist, yah are tha 'greatest thief in the world' are yah not?"

That put the sparkle back in his eyes, "Aye, cheri," and with that he dashed off down the hall stopping, pausing and dodging the angles before getting to the door at the end.

She watched as he went, committing every motion of the dance to memory and silently cheering when he made it, not that she'd admit that out loud. Now it was her turn.

Each camera moved in a set pattern, she only had to wait until they lined up…

Dashing out as Gambit had done she mimicked each step, even throwing in a twirl instead of a dodge, not letting the shabby ruffian have all the flare in the room.

"Not bad, cheri," he grinned at her as she joined him at the door of the security room. "Not bad at all."

She took entirely too much pleasure in having the King of Thieves applaud her skill, so instead she questioned. "Why aren't there any cameras pointed at tha door?"

"To avoid hackers getting a video of da keypad," he pointed at the small silver keypad embedded into the wall.

"Ah," made sense, it would be a great way to get an access code, "did yah steal someone's code?"

"Non," he squatted down to get eye level with the keypad, using his cane for balance, "didn't have an opportunity to, so going to let da keypad do da talking for me."

"Yah can't possibly read tha key code from tha key pad," she stifled a laugh at the thought but then this was Remy LeBeau she was talking to, "can you?"

"Time leaves wear on all things, petite," his intensive gaze studied the angles of light reflecting off each key, "and people are predictable, da way dey slide from one key to da other. A keypad is an open book, you only have to know da language."

"Okay," she thought deeply about what he was saying, "now I'm very suspicious that yah didn't cheat some poor guard out of their code and are just trying ta impress me."

"Is it working?" he grinned up at her.

She couldn't believe she was saying it, but "Maybe."

"Good," he stood up, "I always like to impress da lady on da first date."

She shook her head, "Oh, so not going ta dignify that."

Chuckling he moved out of the way of the keypad, slipping two cards from his sleeve, "You type in da password, I'll disable da guards inside."

Suddenly she sobered, she hadn't ever worked with the man and he didn't have the reputation for leaving bodies… she had to make sure, "Disable them?"

"Don't fret, cheri," his cards began to glow softly between his fingers, his biker-gloves cut off above the knuckle, "just enough to stun dem. A good thief gives you a reason to chase dem, a great thief never gives you a better reason to hunt dem."

Satisfied with the answer she stood at the ready, "What's tha code?"

"5, 9, 3, 5, 2," he said and she ran them through her head to remember them.

"Ready?" she asked and he nodded, his free hand on the knob of the door, "Here goes, 5," she punched in each number as she said it aloud, "9, 3, 5, 2."

To Rogue's amazement the lock popped and Gambit was quick to swing the door wide. He stepped in and the two cards flew from his hands with a sizzling noise that echoed in the quiet room. Two men shouted then there was a thud.

She followed him in and quickly went over to the fallen guards, they were only knocked out as he said.

"Why don't you tie dem up, petite," the Cajun moved the security desk and began to type at it, "need to sort out what new security measures were put in place."

"Yah mean yah don't know?" she pulled zip-tie's from one of the guards pockets then looked around to see a table welded to the ground and drug the first one easily over to it.

"I know he designed it with me in mind," he said the words with a touch of pride in his voice.

But if he didn't know what security was put in place, "Then how do yah know yah need someone who can fly?"

"A rumor," he shrugged, brining up a different screen.

Rogue shook her head, she seemed to do that a lot around the Louisianan. She dragged the other guard over and zip-tied them both, removing any phones and radios from their person before joining him at the console.

"You're not shy are you, petite?" he asked, tapping away at the keyboard.

"I'm afraid ta ask," she replied wryly.

"I can loop da cameras for everything except da penthouse," he pointed to the screens, "dose floors are not controlled from here. Distinct possibility dat we'll leave something to be found later. I don't mind him knowing it was me, but can't speak for you."

"I suppose I could always claim I was bedazzled by yah devilish charms," she dripped every bit of sarcasm she could into the words. Scanning the screens she found the level he was speaking about, several items laid out in display cases like a gallery. One image showed two guards sitting at a desk outside the entrance. "Only two?"

"Dat's all he needs for most thieves," he said absentmindedly, studying another screen, an image of some ancient gold dagger sitting in a glass case in the middle of the room, "and for me he had something special in mind."

"Great," she was not enthusiastic. "So what's tha plan?"

He chuckled again, "You're gonna love dis."

…

The two men were supposed to be watching the cameras but instead had the game on with the security feed in their peripheral. They couldn't figure out why their employer was so paranoid, but the money was good, so what could they say?

A ding sounded from down the entryway where the elevators were and both of their head's popped up to see what was happening.

"Boss back early?" David's asked his partner.

"No," the man answered with a shake of his head, "and no expected visitors either, why don't you check it out."

David gave the other guard a sour look but it _was_ his turn, so he stood and walked down the hallway about thirty feet to the elevator foyer. One of the doors was stuck open and he was just about to clear a view of the car when two figures stumbled out.

"And then he was like, .god! I could totally have died," the woman said in what sounded like a fully inebriated tenor. She was hanging off the arm of a man in a brown trench and hat that stumbled as badly as she did, both almost crashing to the ground. He couldn't get a good look at the man the way he fell about but the woman struck a fine figure in her tight leather jacket.

"Excuse me," he said to the couple in a very annoyed tone, this was the last thing he needed tonight, two drunk and spoiled rich kids causing him to write up a report and miss the last bit of the game.

"Wait, wait," the woman started to stumbled around, staring up at the elevator numbers, "nnoooooooooo, this is tha wrooooooooong floor," she swung around, pulling the man on her arm and he stumbled after her, the two completely trashed.

"You're going to have to leave, now," David tried to usher the couple back into the elevator when they spun around again. This time the man in the trench stopped inches from him and the guard could finally get a clear look at his face. "LeBeau!"

He had been warned about the thief with red irises and special skills but the guard had thought it exaggeration. With a flick of the rough-looking man's wrist a playing card went flying past David's face, a slight trail of pinkish-purple glow following it. The guard knew he should keep his eyes on the intruder but it happened so fast and the move so random he couldn't help but follow the projectile to see it explode against his partner, knocking him to the ground before he could hit the alarm.

David had never seen such a thing before in his life and he gapped at the thief who grinned and said, "Behind you."

Then it all went black.

…

Rogue clonked the man on the back of the head with her fist, just enough to send him into a nice nap while they stole whatever it was they came for. "Please tell me my sole purpose was not ta act tha floozy in tha old 'stumbled onto tha wrong floor' routine?"

"Non, cheri," he almost looked hurt by the implication, "dat was just a bonus."

She shook her head again, she was really going to have to stop doing that, and pulled the guard over to the desk. "Can't believe that worked."

"Da classics are classics for a reason, petite," he politely informed her as he sat at the console and began to tap away. Funny, she wouldn't take him for much of a computer guy but then she supposed all thieves had to adjust with the changing digital world. "A good thief can handle complicated, a great thief knows simple is best."

Cuffing the guards as she had done down in the security room, Rogue noticed a series of black and white surveillance photos taped to the desk. They were all of Gambit, mostly of him looking up at the camera with a taunting smile on his face. "Huh, look at that."

The Cajun studied the images for a moment, a silly grin on his face, likely reliving the joy of past conquests.

"I'm surprised they didn't recognize yah right away," Rogue added dryly.

"Because cheri, dey weren't expecting you," he glanced up at her, his eyes just visible under the hat, "I always work alone. You're my first," he said the last sentence with a sparkle in the red irises.

"Somehow, sugah," she said sweetly, "I highly doubt that."

He kept grinning but stood from the desk, heading over to the wall next to the entrance into the gallery proper. Using a pocket knife he removed a panel and had a look at the wires and electronics inside.

Not that she would ever admit it to the thief, as he'd get the wrong idea, but she was actually enjoying herself. It felt good to be on a job and be treated as a partner, not a tool. She loved her Brotherhood pals like, well, brothers, but they did have a tendency to see her as her abilities and what she could do. Course, that's how they saw everyone so she didn't take it personally.

Eventually Gambit would turn the same eye towards her, they always do, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it while it lasted.

"Clever," the thief said admirably, stepping back from the wall and moving to the front of the entrance hall.

Rogue could see the moving laser grid that ran the length of the hallway. They rose from anywhere between two to four feet off the ground and looked a might tricky to anyone other than the world champion limbo dancer. "Can you shut it off?" she asked, squatting down to get a better look at how much clearance there was.

"Non," he let out a puff of annoyance, "everything has pressure _and_ kinetic sensors on dem, closed circuit system, and if we trip da lasers or cut da power da whole place locks down."

"I could touch one of tha guards," she offered, "get tha passcodes."

"Hhm?" he looked as if he hadn't even considered that possibility, but now that he did, "non, dey don't have access to shut it off. Da gentleman wouldn't want me to be able to cheat one of his poor guards out of his codes, now would he?"

She took it all in and had to chuckle, "This guy really doesn't like yah."

"What's dere not da like?" he quipped, taking three steps back and tucking his cane into his trench to store it away and clasping the jacket shut. Before she could ask what he was doing, the mutant broke into a dead run and launched himself into the fray of moving beams.

Gambit jumped, hopped, rolled, even at one point ran sideways on the wall, in order to reach the other side without breaking a single beam. His hat came loose and tumbled down but he caught it, tipping it back onto his head.

Rogue gave him the grimmest look of unimpressed disinterest she could muster and then kicked off the ground. Gracefully she glided over the tops of the lasers with an easy two foot clearance.

"Now who's showing off, cheri?" he grinned as she landed and she rolled her eyes at him.

The entry hall dropped down several steps into the main gallery, a large open space where artifacts were placed in museum quality display cases. In the center of the room a pedestal held a Mid-18th Century European gold dagger, a couple of sapphires inlaid on the hilt. It looked like it had a similar pressure sensitive trip on the glass as she saw in the Vault.

"Not well secure once yah inside," she walked around the case, "I can think of at least three ways we could crack this."

The thief made an agreeable sound, then said, "Dese are just trinkets, cheri, he knows I'd never waste my time with dem."

She glanced up at his curiously, the dagger having to be work at least a quarter of a million, "Then what we after?"

"He keeps da good stuff locked up in his safe," the Cajun replied simply with a tease to his voice.

"Okay, Gambit, I'll bite," she stood to full height, hands on her hips, "where's tha safe?"

The man smiled, then his eyes darted upwards and she followed his gaze to the raised ceiling. At first she thought the four large boxes which were lowered from the ceiling where part of some kind of art deco theme, fabric panels hanging off them to dampen ambient noise.

Upon closer inspection, the blocks were affixed to heavy duty steel beams, six to a block, and they were just the right size for your average high-end safe. Also, the three dozen moving lasers which shot across to completely block any kind of access via repelling ropes was a bit of a dead giveaway.

"Oh, yeah," she laughed, "he really, _really_, doesn't like yah."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I have been posting these pretty close together to catch up where I left off on JCF which is currently under maintenance, I'll slow down a bit now that I'm caught up. Unless you want me to keep posting every other day?

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

_Manhattan Apartment_

"Who puts a safe on tha ceiling?" Rogue walked around, staring up at the blocks while trying to wrap the concept around her head. The floor above was probably several thick layers of steel in order to hold the weight of the objects meaning that drilling in from above wasn't an option either. "Doesn't look like there's a lowering mechanism, he'd have ta use a ladder ta get into it."

"Did I forget to mention dat da man has two very white, very feathery wings?" Gambit was a little too pleased with himself. "Regular cockerel, all he needs is a bright red comb on his head."

"Wait," she knew this one, rich with two white wings and could fly… "This is Warren Worthington the Third's personal gallery."

"Dat a problem?" he asked as he stood with the dagger's podium between them.

"Ah, no, not really," she only knew the recluse billionaire by reputation and he tended to set the fence in regards to the mutant divide, though he usually came down on Xavier's side, however, "but I'm starting to wonder if I'm being played again, so yah can get one over on tha Angel."

"Legitimate concern, petite," he shrugged, giving her perhaps the most honest looking expression she had seen on him yet which only made her more suspicious. "I _was_ playing you at da club to get you here, but my reason for doing so is still da same."

"This thing yah want ta trade," her eyes darted back to the boxes hanging from the ceiling, "just happens to be owned by Worthington?"

"Trust me, cheri," his eyes went perhaps a shade darker, it was hard to tell from the glow of the display case, "any other day, it would give me great pleasure to show up dat upstart chicken again, but dis is not one of dem."

As she peered across the dagger's glass enclosure at the tall scoundrel, memories of the reason she was here knocked on the back door of her mind, demanding an audience. The raw sensation of holding a loved one as they died and there wasn't a damn thing you could about it. It was an all too familiar pain, more solid and jagged than the one she carried around in her own soul. The kind of heartache that could lead a person to do almost anything…

Sighing, she gave in, she might never be able to sort the emotions out in her head to know for sure what the Cajun's true intentions where until it was all over, and she had come this far already, "Alright, what we stealing?"

"Last year, Worthington won a Japanese lacquered writing box at Christie's," he went into the explanation, not taking the moment to gloat which she silently thanked him for. "You know what one looks like?"

"I've spent some time in Japan," she said, remembering the small cases that would hold ink wells and styluses for noblemen, "visited a few museums."

"Oh?" he raised a curious eyebrow.

"Some of us just like ta look at tha art," she assured him with a smirk.

"And you think I don't?" he grinned but before she could spout a retort he continued, "Dis one will be about da size of a thin paperback."

"Okay," she let out a long breath as she looked up at the lasers once again, this was going to take all her dexterity, "do yah know which box is the safe?"

"Non," he admitted.

"Do yah know if there are pressure sensors on the panels?" she questioned, referring to the sound dampeners hanging from each square, one likely hiding the face of the safe.

"Probably," he said if that was part of the fun.

"Well, aren't yah just a shade of useless," she observed as she squatted down to untie the laces on her boots.

"Relish da challenge, petite," he offered, grinning.

"Uh huh," Rogue wasn't too keen, after all, she knew what was at stake and a part of her really didn't want to screw up in front of the thief. If anything, she didn't want to give him a story to hold over her head for the next time they ran into each other. She slipped off the first boot, "That writing box can't be worth more than a few thousand, why lock it up?"

"It's not da monetary price, cheri," he emphasized his words by peering into the dagger display case, "it's what it means to da owner."

The other boot came off and she stood on the cold marble floor in thick black socks, "And what does it mean ta Worthington?"

"Don't rightly know," he laughed as if the whole concept was novel to him, "but I do know dat he beat another man at da auction for it, and he'd pay greatly to have it in his possession instead."

She unzipped her leather jacket, it was going to have to go as well, "And yah know this for a fact?"

The Cajun nodded assuredly, coming around the podium, "Tried da pay me to steal it."

"Why didn't ya?" Rogue slipped the leather from her arms.

"Da man in question is not only a high ranking member of da Toyko Assassin's Guild, but of da Yakuza," he reached out to take her jacket as she considered laying it over her boots, "a good thief can steal anything, a great thief steals whatever he wants, and I don't want to steal for a man like him, making an exception on account of da situation."

She passed the leather item over to the Cajun, rolling the revelation over in her mind, "Mighty high moral code yah got there for a thief."

"You think so little of me, mon cheri," he smiled, red eyes glinting at her playfully, "perhaps you should get to know me better, no?"

"No," she let the word roll off her tongue showing her disinterest, then she realized she had been played again, "Oh, no, no, no," she reached forward and quickly dipped her hands into an inside pocket of her jacket, pulling out the King of Hearts she had stored there. "Not gonna be that easy, Gambit."

"And here I thought I was being polite to da lady," he grinned, very well aware of what he had just done.

"Yeah, bet you were," she slid the card into her back pocket then caught her hair in the band so it sat as a bun and not a loose ponytail.

With that, Rogue took a few steps back, then a few to the left, all the while looking up at the laser beams as they danced in their predictable pattern. She backed up, walked to the right, all trying to find a good opening to slide through. An angle entry would be the only way but from what she saw her body simply couldn't bend that way.

Another step to the left and there it was, an opening that closed but another opened just beside it, then atop it, she'd have to time it right though… just like the hallway.

"Take your time, Rogue, when you're ready," the ruffian said with what sounded like sincerity and she caught his eyes from across the room.

There was an odd timber to the whole situation and it dawned on her how the thief must be feeling right now. He wasn't too proud to ask for her to do this task but still, he was the greatest thief in the world and he had to get someone else to steal the one item that could lead him to the man who had his brother murdered.

Rogue didn't particularly like the Cajun but she knew all too well how he felt losing Henri and she wasn't going to let him down.

Kicking off the floor she hovered under the area where two lasers didn't quite get close enough to shunt off the space where her thin frame could squeeze through. As she made it half way through she had to bend to avoid a beam overhead. Like wading through water she paddled her arms just enough to clear her hovering form from the first level.

Twisting in the air, she now floated on her back, watching the light dance above her. Another foot forward and a spot opened up. Sliding almost like a snake, or a gymnast on a balance beam, she splayed her hands out in front of her to flip her body through without hitting the lasers both above and below her.

The last one wasn't so bad, she had plenty of room once she got above the lights, contorting her body to keep from straightening out too early and hitting one of the roaming beams. Once she was free, she took a moment, hovering on her back as if she was resting, letting the nerves settle.

"Bravo, cheri," he said playfully.

"Stop looking at my butt," she grumbled, turning onto her front and willing herself over between the four boxes. "What are the chances there are pressure sensors on the ceiling?"

"I'd not take dat bet," the thief answered.

"Yeah, me neither," she started to circle around each of the massive blocks, all similar down to the paint for the faux-wood covers and the fabric on the dampeners. Still, what did the man say earlier? "Time leaves wear on all things," she mumbled.

Faint cuffs lined the ceiling on the far side of the first block on the left, just the right span for a pair of human sized wings. There was minor fraying where the fabric rolled over the edge of the particle-board panel.

It was all or nothing.

Reaching around the frayed bit she felt a lever, same as under the hood of a car. Clicking it the panel popped loose and she easily slid it to the side. Now Rogue was face to face with a four foot metal door with punch-code electric lock and her without any lock-smith tools. Tumblers she could do, not this. Probably should have thought this through more.

"So now what, lock whisperer," she peered down at the Cajun.

The man chuckled, "Good one, petite, I'll let dat pass."

It took her a second to realize she had called him a nickname against her promise not to earlier. She opened her mouth to apologize then decided against it.

"What keys show the most wear?" he asked her.

After taking a moment to get a good look at them, she rambled off five numbers.

Gambit took just as long to consider the digits before bursting out laughing, "Oh, you are right, cheri, he really doesn't like me."

The thief rambled off a set of six numbers which sounded suspiciously like a date and the keypad accepted the code, the handle easily releasing as she pulled the door open. "How did yah know?"

"Dat was the date I first stole from him," he said the words wistfully. "He's taunting me, petite."

"Can't imagine why," she said just under her breath. Inside the door were metal handles so that the winged mutant could pull himself in and she used them for the same purpose. The safe was like a closet, couldn't be more than five feet tall and if she had to hunch to move around, she hated to know how Worthington must felt.

Scattered across several shelves were all manner of jewelry, bank notes, certificates, and various ancient artifacts. On a lower shelve she found a velour bag just about the right size. Checking the contents, a black lacquered writing box with a beautifully set willow tree made of silver and mother-of-pearl on the lid was exactly what she was looking for.

Moving to the door she glanced back at everything that was being left behind. She called down, "Hey, Gambit, there's a lot of expensive stuff up here, yah want any of it?"

"A good thief takes," he quipped another one of his sayings, "a great thief only takes what he can steal."

Sighing, she moved out from the door to close it behind her, the bag's strap wrapped around her wrist. "Thank you for that, Yoda."

She must have said it louder than she thought, "Just can't help yourself around ol' Remy, can you cheri?"

"Something like that," she bemoaned, sliding the panel into place and moving over to her exit route. "I don't think this is going to be any easier."

"You'll do fine, Rogue," again she caught the serious tone in his voice, only the second time he'd ever called her by her name.

Taking a deep breath she dipped back down between the lasers, slowly snaking her way through, twisting and turning, the writing box clutched in a death grasp in her hand. Soon she came out the other end, head first, but it worked.

"Magnifique," Gambit praised, walking over with her boots and coat in hand.

Staring at him from upside down, she commented, "I think I like yah better this way."

His eyes glanced up, "I like you better dis way too."

It was at this point she realized her shirt had come loose and dropped down, uncovering her mid-drift. Not that there was much to see other than some woefully pale skin, but the words coming from the woman-chasing Cajun was enough to set her ears red. Rogue quickly righted herself and sank to the floor. He sat the boots in front of her, his hand open for the box.

"Oh no," she tucked it under her bent legs, "yah get it when yah get us out of here."

"Still don't trust me, aye, petite?" he gave a tsk-sound.

"Of course not," she slipped on one boot, quickly tying up the laces, "heighten sense of self-preservation, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," he said a bit too fondly for her liking.

Fastening the other boot she stood, perhaps a bit too quickly, a sharp pain striking against her temple. She stumbled backwards and when she opened her eyes she could have sworn she saw the image of Carol Danvers shouting at her but it went away so quickly it could have easily been imagined.

"Woah, petite," the thief moved to help her and she instinctively backed away from him.

"I'm fine," she took a couple short breaths and cleared her mind, "blood rush is all."

"If you say so, cheri," he handed over her jacket and she slipped it on, passing the box back and forth as she worked her arms through the holes.

A few more calming breaths and she was okay, "So, we go out tha way we came?"

"Where is your sense of style, cheri?" he winked at her and she followed him back to the entrance where he once again jumped and practically danced his way through the security beams.

Rogue took the easy way and flew over them.

When they got to the desk, the security guards were awake now, attempting to get free of the restraints.

"Gentlemen," LeBeau took his hat off to them, "tell da Angel dat Remy LeBeau gives his compliments."

Tipping the tribly back onto his head, cane in hand, he turned and walked away from the guards who stared up at the nonchalant thief with a strange mix of awe and terror on their faces.

Feeling it was her place to say something smart, she gave the guards a smile and said, "I'm with him."

That said she caught up with the thief at the door to the elevator which he waited patiently for. The doors opened and they slipped inside, Gambit hitting the lobby button.

"We going out tha front door?" she asked.

"Why not?" he replied and it worked for her, they got what they came for, now was the getaway. "Unless you want to find da bedroom first," he said suggestively, "really annoy da Angel?"

Rolling her eyes, "Yah always had this death wish?"

"Non," he grinned, a caged laugh in his throat, "I very much do enjoy living."

"Could have fooled me," she mumbled, breaking eye-contact with the Cajun.

After a minute the car dropped the full length and opened up to the apartment lobby. The night guard was sitting at the security desk, calling into his radio.

"Hey, guys, this is check in, you there?" he said uselessly, not knowing that the men he was calling were tied up.

Rogue confronted the thief as they walked away, "Yah said we had all night once we got past tha guards upstairs."

"Did I?" he said questionably with entirely too much coyness hidden in the words.

"You!" the guard shouted and alarms started to go off, an audible pop of the locking mechanism on the front door echoed in the foyer.

Gambit only sped up, slipping a card from his sleeve and giving it a quick flick at the glass. With a shatter an escape point opened up and he slowed down enough for her to skip through first, making sure not to slip on the shards.

The move was not altruistic as the thief took the chance to turn and tip his hat to the guard and camera before slipping out.

The two then made a dead run down the street, taking corners and shooting down alleys. They had to have been at least five blocks away before they stopped to catch their breath. Rogue found herself uncontrollably laughing. "You, sir, are a walking cliché."

"But are you impressed?" he asked, also amused by the situation.

Well, she had to give it to him that he kind of pulled off the whole persona. "Maybe."

"I can live with dat," he smiled, pulling a folded over manila envelope from one of the pockets in his coat. "Dis should more dan cover services rendered."

Rogue had actually forgot about that part, so wrapped up in everything else, and the thought of just being another hired thug, a tool, sobered her up. She knew it would eventually happen, so why did it sadden her so that it did?

Writing box still in hand, she held it out for him as he held the payment for her. They both took hold but didn't try to end the contact right away.

"You're a good thief, petite," he said softly, "you could be a great thief."

"Just have ta follow yah little mantras?" she said a little too spitefully. Just days ago this man got her friend shot, what was she doing hanging around with him and enjoying a little heist, wishing it wasn't over?

"Perhaps," he shrugged, pulling away with the box while leaving the package in her hand. "Be seeing you around, cheri." With that he bowed his head to her and sauntered off down the sidewalk.

"I sincerely hope not," she called after him, seeing as he was an annoyance who played her like a five string guitar.

He stopped, looking over his shoulder, "Remember, cheri, only take what you can steal." Gambit flicked his hand and between his index and middle finger was a worn King of Hearts.

Rogue immediately checked her back pocket and sure enough, the card was gone and she had no idea when he made the lift. The thief disappeared into the night and this time he wasn't trying to get himself caught.

Really wanting to get the card back because she knew it would annoy the Cajun as much as he bothered her, she could try hunting him in the city… but why? She knew where he was going.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thank you again for the reviews, it's always mucho appreciated! :D

I also wrote a one-shot called _Touch_ that goes into the psyche of Rogue. It's not in-universe to this story but gives you an idea of how I think her mind works. I hope you like it as much as you're enjoying this!

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><p>Hiroyuki Shimosawa as Shingen Yashida (He's a Wolverine villain, I'm borrowing him.)<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

_Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan_

Remy LeBeau liked to say he was picky about what jobs he took because he could afford to be, and that was certainly true. Over the past decade he had acquired quite a bit which at least eight different countries and twenty-five government agencies would like to get their hands on. He did enjoy the challenge, out thinking those who thought they were better than the Cajun boy from down South.

Such as Worthington, the winged mutant probably thought LeBeau felt himself above asking for help in breaking into his place, otherwise he would have done more to protect the safe. True, Remy hadn't put much thought towards breaking in since the new security upgrades but it had been in the back of his mind. He knew he'd need a flying mutant or an incredible hacker to do the job but wasn't going to make a fuss about it, only needed to find the right person for the task.

Rogue lived up to her reputation, intelligent enough to think for herself but smart enough to know when to follow the leader. He didn't lie to her, she would make a _great_ thief if she felt so inclined.

The Louisiana native walked through the lobby of the Park-Hyatt Hotel, Tokyo, a massive structure that looked like three high-rise buildings pressed together. The writing box tucked in his coat he was greeted by two angry looking Asian men in black suits.

"Sprechen sie Deutsch?" he asked glibly but it went right over their heads, at least he got a good chuckle out of it.

Ushered into an elevator, he was dropped off at the hotel's restaurant, a swank looking place with a long dining area, tables up against the glass so the clientele could enjoy the view. Most of the tables were full, the evening diners pretty much ignoring him as he walked past.

Gambit took note of how many there were, what stages of dinner they were in, and just how interested they were in their food. Something was definitely off.

"Remy LeBeau," Shingen Yashida called from where he was cutting into a steak, rare, "join me."

"Just want what I came for," the thief registered body guards standing at the four points though keeping their distance as to not interrupt their boss's meal.

Shingen was a smartly dressed Asian, shoulder length brown hair tied back and a neatly trimmed goatee with beard. But his eyes had a sharp edge to them, the kind of hardness seen in a man likely lacking in a soul. "Don't be rude," he said in accented English, "sit."

Deciding _not_ to err on the side of caution, Remy slipped into the offered seat across from Shingen. The Yakuza and Assassins Guild member was known to be ruthless and uncompromising, not the kind of person the Cajun liked to consort with. Perhaps he was just your average Southern country boy, but the thief tended to frown on such things as the whole-sale slaughter of innocents.

"Do you have it?" Shingen took a bite of his steak.

"I'm da most trustworthy one at dis table," Gambit told it like it was without bashfulness, "did you bring da information I asked for?"

The assassin grunted his annoyance at the thief's ill humor, but pulled a thin CD case from his breast pocket and tossed it on the table between them. "Everything in regards to the contract placed on one Henri LeBeau."

A CD, not what Gambit wanted, paper always preferred, that way he could make sure Shingen wasn't trying to stiff him. Too late now, he'd have to take the trade and deal with the consequences and improvise if need be. Not too quickly, the thief took the velour bag containing the writing box from its own hiding place and sat it next to the CD.

Shingen starred down at it almost as if he had expected the Cajun to have come empty handed. Wiping off his hands and mouth, the Yakuza officer picked up the bag and slid the box out. The man took a moment to look it over, slipping off the lid to gaze at the few implements still left inside. Part of LeBeau wanted to know why the box was so important to him, but mostly he just wanted to get the information and get out.

"Worthington is lucky he has certain… friends," the assassin ran his fingers down the inside of the lid, Gambit had noticed the all too regular scratch marks but didn't have the time to try to make heads or tails of them. "You know not how many times I have wanted to send my men into his home, drag him into the streets and pluck his feathers one by one for the world to see?"

Wisely, Remy chose to keep his mouth shut. He made deals with the devil's own before out of necessity, he did so again today because of those fabled 'best intentions'… didn't mean he had to be sociable.

Reaching for the CD case, exactly what he figured happened. Every person in the restaurant, from diner to waiter, stopped what they were doing and pulled out a weapon. Assassins or Yakuza, probably a mix of both.

Gambit sighed, it was going to be one of those nights.

…

"I told you not to be rude," Shingen said with entirely too much glee than was proper for a man of his standing. "Now, keep your hands where I can see them."

He watched as the thief cautiously laid his biker-gloved hands at the edge of the table, thumbs drooped over the side of the heavy wood, with no cards in sight and well away from any utensils. Shingen did not want to give the mutant a chance to create any destructive throwing implements.

"Good," satisfied, the assassin plucked the CD up and slipped it into his jacket with the writing box, "behave and you might just get this back."

"Why do I doubt dat?" he replied evenly.

"Because you're a smart man, Mr. LeBeau," he replied snidely, the American was not going to make this simple, which to a point was fine for Shingen. This was a long time coming. "You should have taken the job when I offered it, instead of mocking me so foolishly."

The thief grinned and chuckled, "I thought sending you dat box of crayons was truly inspired."

Shingen let out what could only be described as a low growl, "Thieves. You have no respect."

LeBeau shrugged, "Yup."

Spouting a few words in Japanese, two of the guards came to either side of the Cajun and Shingen smiled. "I have thought of so many wonderfully horrid things to do to you for your petulance, Mr. LeBeau."

"Imagine you have," he replied, not an inch of fear in his voice.

"They call you _Le Diable Blanc_," Shingen had only slight trouble with the pronunciation, "The White Devil, but I do not think you deserve such a noble title."

"Never asked for it," the man looked uncomfortable for the first time.

Shingen was beginning to understand his foe just a bit more, "Then perhaps I can show you what the real devil looks like."

"Met da man, years ago," LeBeau said casually but there was an edge to his voice, "didn't end well for either of us."

The Cajun's easy audacity was becoming enough for the Yakuza officer, "Fine, let's see how you are without your cards and tricks, Mr. LeBeau. {Search him.}"

His guards grabbed the man by the shoulders and hauled him out of his seat roughly, the thief hunched over, leaning on the table as they started to comb through his pockets. First they grabbed his cane from where it was stashed on a clip in the trench.

"You do realize, Shingen," the thief grinned, "dat I can charge things bigger dan playing cards…"

A slight glow caught Shingen's attention, the creases in the deep red of the lacquered table starting to hum with a pinkish glow.

"Just takes longer…" with those words the table exploded in a hail of shards and splinters.

Shingen threw his arms up to protect himself and one of his personal body guards took him to the floor as the explosion hit. Years of training had the assassin back on his feet, taking a sword from of the Yakuza nearest him. He was ready for whatever attack might be coming his way. However, LeBeau showed himself not to be the fool, he might get Shingen but it would be a suicidal move, the Yakuza in the room would take him out before he could get away.

The assassin watched as the thief jumped from table to table in the resulting chaos, knocking several people down with his Bo staff and charged cards before disappearing into the kitchen.

Well, this would make the man's death much more satisfying once they caught _Le Diable Blanc_…

…

Every time he made a deal with the devil it never turned out right… he should have learned that lesson already. Now he was on the run with nothing to show for it.

Think, LeBeau, think.

Dashing through the kitchen, he spotted a tray of knives in a drying bin. Snatching them they were nice cold stainless steel which took a charge quick and easy. Assassins came busting through the door after him and he flicked the knives in their direction. He wasn't trying to actually hit anyone and he figured they were trained well enough to duck and cover, he only needed to gain himself some time.

Evade first then reassess your position.

Taking a left towards the freezers, three athletic looking men had their guns drawn. Gambit let loose with three cards, two hitting their mark and taking down the men. The third dodged and got a shot off but Gambit opened the door to the freezer to let it take the bullet. Flipping around the open door he struck out with his staff, sending the man to the floor.

Noises came from behind and he ducked out the back which led to a long hallway. Racing down the expanse, at least a dozen Yakuza appeared at the end and opened fire. Dashing through the nearest exit, which was a metal double door, he found himself in an industrial laundry room. Four washers lined one side and four dryers on the other. The ceiling was high as the machines were at least seven feet tall with barrels enough to do at a whole floor's worth of linens in one go.

Need to separate Shingen from the pack or take down the Yakuza in smaller groups.

There was another set of doors on the other end of the room and he ran towards it only to be cut off by a flying dagger he narrowly avoided. Gambit flicked two cards back in the direction of the offending weapon but whoever threw it had moved.

A sword came swinging in his direction and he parried it away with his Bo staff, only to have the assassin attempt again with a second sword in his other hand. The second swept low and Gambit was able to block it, and that was about all. His foe was quick, not mutant quick, just hard and solid like a man who had spent his life with a sword in his hands.

Not as good as Wade though, but then, who was.

The thief backed up between two of the washers, giving the assassin less room to work with as he swung his deadly implements. Blocking a strong swipe from a sword, Gambit jumped backwards then hopped back and forth between both machines to get on top of one.

The assassin followed expertly, but Gambit had time to set up a strike, flicking four charged cards at the dark clad man. Only one connected and it was enough to cause a sword to clatter to the ground and slide under a machine. This did little to stop the Asian from advancing on the Cajun.

Gambit found defense easier against the one sword and managed a few strikes. This wasn't working for him though and he back flipped off the washer to the ground. The assassin didn't immediately follow, this time cautious, smartly so. Holding his Bo staff at the ready, Remy gave the man a challenging look. After all, the assassin had the high ground, what did he have to lose?

The man jumped down, sword at the ready, but Gambit did something unexpected and flat out ran at the assassin. Getting right under him, the thief got inside the reach of the sword and promptly punched the swordsman square in the face, the man falling to the ground in a heap.

That felt entirely too good.

Men and women burst through both entrances and he tried to make a run for it through the sides of the dryers. The Yakuza flooded in too quickly, he'd knock down one and two more would appear. Soon he found himself backed against a wall behind the units, Assassins and Yakuza at every exit, even on top of the dryers.

Yep, one of those nights.

…

"{Lock the doors}," Shingen ordered to his guards as he entered the laundry room, sword still in hand. He did not want his prey getting away this time.

A few abrasions on his face and hands, but several cuts and stains to his suit, oh, the Cajun would definitely pay.

His men had cornered the thief in the laundry behind one of the dryers. It almost seemed fitting for the kind of rat that LeBeau was. To be squashed in the dank recesses of a room like this, Shingen could almost see the poetry in it.

Rounding the dryer, his men parted so that he could see LeBeau, but this time he was smart enough to keep a few guards between himself and the Cajun. The end of the man's Bo staff started to glow with a pinkish-purple hue. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr LeBeau."

The thief looked at him with caged eyes, the red devil in them practically glowing with energy.

"Think what kind of structural damage you could do," Shingen pointed out, "all the innocents you might hurt."

LeBeau only took a second to glance at the floor and it didn't take a psychic to see him rethink his plan of stabbing the floor with the kinetic energy he was storing in the staff, thereby creating a mini-earthquake. While being beneficial to his escape it could collapse at least one floor, maybe two. Predictable, the man didn't have the gumption to do what was necessary.

"I got you da box, Shingen," he called out, "why can't we be civilized folk here?"

Shingen laughed, "When were men like us ever civilized, Mr LeBeau?"

"I've had my moments," he retorted, defiant to the fact that he was well and truly out of options now.

"Then let this one be your last," he replied coldly, bringing the sword to bear. He had plans on how to torture the thief but perhaps his hand had been forced, a quick death would more advantageous, only less satisfying.

_BANG!_

A pound against the door caused everyone to pause. Daring to look over his shoulder, another thud rang out, this time Shingen saw the metal door fly across the room.

Seconds later, a woman ran into view, staring down the aisle between the dryers. A brown leather jacket complimented dark red hair, a white streak parted down the side. The expression on her face as she took in the sight of several dozen Yakuza warriors and the cornered Remy LeBeau could only be described as that of a woman who has burst jovially into a room, only to realize a funeral was taking place.

"Ah," she cleared her throat and pointed at the thief, "I'm with him."

Shingen glanced back at LeBeau who was grinning like the fiend he was. "She's with me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Thank you again for your reviews, they mean a lot! Gambit is one smooth talker, you'll be seeing more of that later, but for now, enjoy Rogue to the rescue, sorta? ;-)

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

_Laundry Room, Park-Hyatt Hotel_

"She's with me," Rogue heard Gambit say right before the Cajun threw his staff at the closest dryer, the impact of his kinetically charged weapon causing it to shutter violently, shards of metal and plastic flying everywhere.

Gun fire rang out and instinctively she jumped up into the air, a move almost never expected by those who didn't know of her mutant ability and it was the easiest way to dodge while getting into position to do some damage herself. With her near-invulnerability due to the strength she absorbed from Danvers, basic 9mm's bruised and stung like a bitch but otherwise didn't harm her.

At least a dozen bad guys stood on top of the dryers and she took off after them, ploughing down the first three, knocking them to the floor below. One of the men jumped after her from across the machines and she blocked two punches before landing one of her own square in the man's gut. He doubled over and she grabbed him by the arms, flinging him around and tossing the assassin at his brethren, the whole group sliding across a dryer and disappearing over the side.

In her peripheral she could see a dozen or so of the Yakuza run out the open spot where the door had been. She considered following but an assassin started to rudely shoot at her. Rogue jumped down between the dryers, flying around quickly to come up behind, a swift kick ending the threat.

Dropping between the machines she saw Gambit finishing up, knocking out two of his attackers with his recovered staff. When she found the restaurant in tatters she had feared for the man's life, maybe more so than she should have, but she'd been in his position before…

"Thanks for da assist, cheri," the thief grinned, a little blood trickling from a wound in his hairline, "though next time you want another date, you only need but call."

Rogue rolled her eyes, the man absolutely exasperated her. "Come on, if they don't have tha stairs covered then it's an easy out."

"You go ahead, petite," Gambit moved past her, "but Shingen still has da file on Henri, gonna get it from him."

"Yah really think he brought it with him?" she tried not to laugh at the man, "He was planning on killing yah."

"Shingen is sadistic," he said he walked quickly towards the door, "he'd take great pleasure in knowing I was within reach of da answers and he took dem away."

Gambit got to the door when she called after him, "He could be anywhere in tha building by now."

"Then I'll search da whole building," he shot back, a hard edge to his voice that she was all too familiar with. It was the kind of pain that leads a man, or in her case, woman, into situations they had no reason to be in and making mistakes no one should ever make.

"Wait," she shouted as he was about to exit, "I have an idea."

He turned towards her. "Petite?"

"I'm improvising," she mumbled as she pulled her glove off squatted next to one of the men who had been part of Shingen's personal guard.

Odds were the man wasn't a mutant so she just brushed her hand across his face, letting the momentary contact throw her into his mind. One of his last thoughts before getting knocked out had been of his duty to his boss. All the information she needed was there, easy reach, gratefully so.

"Tha roof," she said as she stood, "exit strategy is they'll send for a helicopter instead of trying ta make it down to tha ground floor in case tha building's compromised."

He stared at her, it was a different look than she had ever seen from someone who witnessed her use her ability. Some were impressed, others terrified, many simply glad she could get the job done. His expression she could not quite place, sadness perhaps, maybe regret but there was no time to examine it.

"Alright," he nodded, putting his poker face back on, "da roof."

With that they ran down the hall towards the stairs. A few guards had been left behind to cover the retreat but either a tossed playing card or thrown punch later and they were out.

Barreling through an exit door they came out on the roof, large cooling units blocking the view of the helicopter landing pad. Off in the distance they could hear the approaching copter, they'd made it just in time.

"I got Shingen," LeBeau whispered loudly over the howling noise of the wind and condensers.

Rogue nodded, slipping between the whirring machines as he jumped on top of them. Coming to the edge she could see the guards, most of them facing the approaching helicopter, but a few actually keeping watch of their flank.

Easy as falling off a log.

…

Shingen hadn't expected the female, all reports listed LeBeau as a loner and said nothing of a woman with incredible strength and flying capabilities. It was a factor he was not prepared for. He did not get to where he was by being stupid and quickly exited a situation that he had lost control over.

He had the writing box and LeBeau was still no closer to his brother's killer, he could list this one as a win.

"Umph!" a guard shouted and Shingen turned to see the female plough into the man, using him as a battering ram to knock down another.

A flash of movement and he brought his sword up to block the strike from the thief's staff. LeBeau tried to press his weight against him but Shingen held against the blow, eventually coming to the breaking point where the thief had to back off or else get himself overextended and open to attack.

"Just give me da CD," the thief growled, "den we all go our separate ways."

Shingen's answer was to sweep the sword at the thief's middle but it was parried away. A few more strikes and the Cajun took the offensive, trying to knock the Yakuza officer off his feet. Over the man's shoulder Shingen could see one of his men take aim at LeBeau only to be tossed aside by the red head.

The helicopter appeared above and a down gust of wind drove them both to the edge of the building. Sword locked with staff, Shingen kicked out to catch the thief's foot and the two tipped against the three foot ledge. Spinning, LeBeau pushed him away.

With two heavy swipes of the blade, LeBeau was forced to back up, jumping backwards onto the barrier. The theif had incredible balance, but with the heavy winds generated by the height and the helicopter even this was precarious for him and Shingen let himself smile.

"You're through, LeBeau," Shingen started his approach.

"Yes, I am," he winked, showing his left hand holding both the CD case and the bag containing the writing box.

"What?" the assassin looked down to see his jacket pulled open. Fury overtook the man and he would see the mutant plummet to his death, even if that meant the loss of the box.

"Time ta go!" the woman shouted as she flew past, snatching up the Cajun like an eagle after her dinner and they sped off into the night.

…

Ian Anthony Dale as Shiro Yoshida (Sunfire)

_Outside Tokyo_

"Ow," Gambit recoiled a bit as she dabbed at his wound, making sure there was nothing still in it.

"Big babies, all of yah," Rogue mumbled pouring some alcohol into the cut, washing it clean over her latex gloved fingers.

"Some of us ain't near-high invulnerable, cheri," the Cajun grumbled back.

"But yah like to think yah are," she retorted, wiping the area dry. "Don't think yah need stitches on this. Head wounds do like ta bleed."

"Will this work?" Shiro asked as he stepped into the room carrying a padded yellow envelope.

"Très bon," Gambit said to the man as he judged the dimensions. "You done dere, petite?"

Slapping on two white band-aids which were meant really to just hold the skin together as it healed, she patted him on the head like a child, "All done."

"Merci, petite," he grinned up at her just a tad bit suggestively and she moved away from him to clean up the mess she had made on Shiro's kitchen table. The Cajun had been a little too close for comfort at times as she worked on him, but he did manage to keep his hands to himself.

"Thank Shiro," she deflected his gaze, slipping off the latex gloves, "without him I wouldn't have known where ta find yah."

"Yes," Shiro gave a bit of a laugh, "Rogue comes to me and says she needs to know who is the most terrible Yakuza who also happens to be in the Assassin's guild. Shingen first comes to mind… then I wonder what business she could have with such a despicable man."

Shiro Yoshida was a diplomat's son, handsome to no end, and rather well off. It was his lovely home that they now sat in. Rogue knew him from when she had spent the better part of a year in Japan on a mission with her mother not long before her death. The two had become friends, Shiro being a rather amiable fellow when not being generally anti-American. Apparently Rogue didn't count as she was a mutant and thus a kindred spirit.

Also, it was obvious that he liked her a bit more than a man then-twenty, her seventeen, should have. Not that she minded, had her condition not limited her options, Shiro could have easily been her first, but it was never going to happen. Rogue let the man get any amorous feelings out of his system so they could move on to the friendship stage.

"Rogue had no business with Shingen," Gambit started to scrawl something on a piece of paper Shiro had given him earlier but grinned in her direction. "I think petite missed me."

"Hardly," she had taken off her jacket while she doctored the wounded man and she pulled an item from a pocket, "I only came for tha card."

Gambit stared at the worn King of Hearts for a moment, his eyes flitting between it and her, likely trying to figure out when she lifted it, not that she'd tell him. He finally said, "Tell you what, cheri, you can hold onto dat for a bit seeing as you possibly saved me a few broken bones, but I'll be having it back soon enough."

"Uh huh," she challenged him, slipping the card into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulling it on, followed by her regular gloves.

With a chuckle, Gambit finished what he was writing and laid the paper on top of the bagged writing box as he addressed the envelope.

Rogue snuck a look, "'Thanks for tha loan, came in handy, Kindest Regards, Remy LeBeau.' Yah really know how ta make friends don't yah."

"You prefer I keep it, petite?" he asked her playfully but there was that touch of seriousness in his tone that continued to confuse her.

Shrugging, she slipped into one of the high-backed dining chairs. "Shingen is gonna be madder than a rattlesnake, he gonna come after yah."

"Non," was the simple reply as the Cajun slid the box into the envelope.

"He's right," Shiro agreed with Gambit, "Shingen can contain this failure among his own men, but if he tries to reach outside Japan to go after Mr LeBeau, he'll have to explain why, and that means explaining how this thief got the better of him."

"Ah," she should have figured that one out but wasn't completely sure how the Guild system worked, "so you'll be fine as long as we can get yah out of Japan."

"And as long as he doesn't come back," Shiro added.

"Now what would be da fun in dat?" Gambit chuckled, then reached down and slipped something from his boot, a gold coin. He placed it on top of the envelope and slid it over to Shiro. "Overnight dat for me would you?"

The man nodded his acceptance of the task then turned towards the fire pit that bordered between the kitchen and living room, "I'll make us some tea." With a flick of his hand a ball of newly formed fire swept from his fingers and landed amongst the timber, igniting it immediately. While her friend Pyro only had the gift of controlling the element, Shiro, often called Sunfire, could create it by igniting the air itself.

"Coffee would be better," the thief said as Shiro took a kettle from a hanger and went over to the sink to draw water, "but whatever you have, mon ami."

Rogue thought she heard the man mumble something about 'Americans' but he continued his task of setting the water to boil over the fireplace.

"Alright, let's see what we got here," Gambit pulled Shiro's borrowed laptop over and lifted the screen. Waiting for the system to kick on he took the CD from the case and stared at it. There were no markings to read, Shingen hadn't bothered to label it, so it was good bet that the man was seeing through it.

Popping the CD into the drive, the thief tapped away at the keys for a good minute before cursing out in French, fist pounding on the table.

"What is it?" she leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's encrypted," he grumbled, pushing the laptop back from him.

Shiro came over with a tray of classic Japanese tea cups, "You can't… hack it?"

"I'm a thief, mon ami," he sounded offended, "fooling alarm systems takes art and style… dis… dis is brutal and vulgar."

"Yah looped tha cameras at Worthington's," she pointed out his not-to-uncomfortable turn at the computers.

"Learned dat out of necessity, cheri," Gambit was almost apologetic, "and it's not dat hard."

"Well," Shiro took the kettle from over the fire as it started to whistle, "I know of a few men up to the task, I can put in a call, should have someone here by tomorrow afternoon."

"Much obliged, mon ami," Gambit waved him off, "but da longer I'm here da more likely Shingen will find me. I would be remiss as a guest to ruin such hospitality with an invasion of Yakuza."

"Shingen wouldn't dare attack me," the fire mutant said a bit too gleefully, "he's swine, but he isn't stupid."

Gambit nodded appreciatively, "Still, I have contacts of my own and best if I leave Japan tonight, dis isn't your fight."

It wasn't Rogue's fight either but ever since she saw the memories of Henri dying she had been drawn to find out who was responsible. Not because she felt LeBeau's own drive towards answers, but because it reminded her of what it was like after her mother died. For years she had wondered what she could have done differently… and one fact that always came back to her was she should have accepted the help when it was offered.

"Yah know," Rogue came to a decision, "I have hacker friend too, and he was recently rolling around in my head," she reached over and grabbed the laptop, sliding it in front of her. "Let's see if he's still there."

"Rogue?" the thief questioned, "You don't have to do dis."

"Gonna anyway," she ignored him, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Going into the recesses of her mind where she hid away all the voices she searched for the one she wanted. Several tried to latch onto her psyche but she threw them off, the pain echoing in winces on her face. When she finally found Pyro and pulled his stolen conscious to the forefront, she opened her eyes.

…

Bright baby blue, that's what Rogue's eyes were… normally they were deep sea green, the kind of color a person could get lost in. Now it was she who was lost to whoever's mind she was accessing.

"Ah, would you look at that," she laughed, her voice slipping from her usual Southern lit into an Australian parlance as she pulled off her gloves. "Think they're being right clever, aren't they."

Australian hacker, had to be Pyro. And it wasn't just the woman's eyes that had changed color, her whole demeanor had as well. The way she sat in the chair, the curve of her grin, the timber of her laugh, she wasn't Rogue anymore.

"Aww, 128-bit encryption," she said playfully to the screen, "isn't it cute, like a baby wallaby."

Her fingers tapped away quickly, not a single bit of hesitation, her grin spreading as she attacked the computer system. She started to mumbled something about it being stupid to put a password on a CD since the CD itself would contain the password, encrypted, so you'd only have to decrypt the one thing and the rest would take care of itself.

Or make the software think you've decrypted the password.

There was also a few random references to… Drop Bears?

The flames of the fire pit leapt up, growing higher and wilder the faster she typed. Gambit exchanged a look with Shiro, the man shaking his head, "That's not me."

This had gone on too long.

"Rogue!" he shouted at her but she didn't register the name.

Reaching over he grabbed the woman at her wrist, just above the end of her jacket cuff, his fingers awfully close to bare skin. Whatever part of her conscious was still there registered the dangerous move and she went stock still, staring down at the precarious position. She glanced up at him and he said the word again.

…

"Rogue."

The word meant something to her and it frightened her that she couldn't be sure why.

A voice screamed in her head, just as familiar, reminding her who she was. Sharp pains shot from her temples and she doubled over, breaking away from the Cajun's grasp before something bad could happen. Taking deep, quick breaths she dragged Pyro's memories away, tossing them into the crowded abyss of her mind.

Rogue blinked away the pain, her eyes shifting back to their normal green. Again she swore she could see Danvers yelling at her but she pushed that away too. She didn't need her guilt getting the better of her, not in a moment like this.

The Cajun quickly poured tea from the kettle into a cup and passed it to her. Rogue almost reached out for it but realized her gloves still lay on the table. He laid the drink down and backed his hand away as she quickly slipped the thin leather back on. Some people had nightmares of going into crowded areas having forgotten to put on pants, Rogue never felt more naked than when her gloves were off.

"You okay, petite?" the thief asked though it looked like he beat Shiro to the question.

"I'm fine," she said defensively, holding the warm cup in her hands, breathing in the calming aroma, "had it under control."

Neither of them looked like they believed her and the Cajun's, "If you say so, petite," didn't sound convincing either.

"I finished the hack," she diverted the subject, trying to refocus the men's gaze as she sipped the liquid. "But it's in Japanese."

"Well," Shiro cleared his throat and pulled the laptop over, "that would be my cue."

One would think the thief would be more curious about what was on the CD but his eyes never left her, watching her with that same expression she saw when she dragged the information out of one of Shingen's guards. Shiro had been obvious, he feared for his friend, but Gambit, she still couldn't read the man's poker face.

"I'm sorry, LeBeau," Shiro looked up from the screen, "but this does not list the contractor by name, just a series of bank accounts."

That finally drug the man's attention away from her, "Accounts dat have been cancelled and wiped clean by now."

"More than likely," Shiro said regrettably.

"Write dem down for me would you, mon ami," the thief slid over one of the sheets of paper, "I know a good money launderer, perhaps he can find something."

"Gonna keep looking?" she asked the Cajun.

He turned his dark red eyes towards her, "Would you?"

Rogue didn't answer, the look on her face telling the man everything he needed to know.

"Here's something," Shiro pointed at the computer screen. "Says here the contract was dropped off via courier, perhaps you can back trace through them."

"A courier, or _the_ courier," Gambit immediately asked.

"Translation is sketchy," the man admitted, "but it was delivered to Guild headquarters and they keep complete logs of everyone who sets foot in the building, including surveillance."

Shiro turned the computer around and against a dark screen of Japanese text was a black and white image looking down on a man who was standing, waiting to be let past a check point. He was a suave looking gentleman, the kind who would look perfectly suited next to a Disney princess in some kind of fairytale. She had a feeling she had seen him before…

Gambit's voice went cold, "Jacob."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for reading! Here we find out that Rogue may be spending too much time with the Cajun!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

_Petra, Jordan_

"No, that is completely unacceptable," Jacob stood at the window of his luxury suite at the Mövenpick Nabatean Castle Hotel in Petra, Jordan. "The terms of the shipment contract were agreed upon by all parties."

The voice on the other end tried to bolster and he let the man get it out of his system.

There was a crack and hiss, the door to his suite flying open with force. He turned to see his bodyguard collapse onto the ground with Gambit stomping forward, glowing card in his hand, looking at the Courier as if he meant to strangle him.

"Have to call you back, your Excellency," Jacob managed to slip the phone into his pocket before being roughly grabbed by the collar and pushed against the window frame. His friend held a glowing playing card at his throat, Two of Clubs, "A Deuce, seriously? I'm worth at least a Jack."

"Charge is still da same," the mutant pointed out, the Courier noting a small wound healing on the thief's hair-line. Just what has his friend been up to the past few weeks? He'd heard rumors…

But that was for later, at the moment he was being forcibly held and his life threatened. To be honest, Jacob wasn't afraid, he knew the Cajun well enough to know that he could be intimidating, but ultimately, the thief's ruthlessness was only a bluff. "What's this about, Remy?"

"It's about da contract you delivered to da Tokyo Assassins Guild," he emphasized by pressing him harder into the frame, the catch for the curtains starting to dig into his back, "da contract on Henri."

"Oh," he said, reassessing his position with that new knowledge, "that."

"Yes," the charged card came closer to his neck, stinging a bit, "_dat_."

"Come on, LeBeau, you know how I work," Jacob didn't have time for this, his friend knew better, "I deliver packages and items, I never ask questions and never look inside. You think that was the first sealed contract I ever delivered to an Assassin's Guild? Think it will be the last?"

The Cajun went silent, likely trying to reconcile his emotions with the truth of the matter. It was at this point Jacob saw the woman who had followed Gambit in. Attractive, but then all the women around his Louisianan friend were, but she had a hardness to her, like someone who wasn't afraid to get into a fight. Her hair was a deep red, much like Remy's eyes, but there was a white streak down the side.

It only took him a second to recognize her as one of Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants. Her special abilities included flight, strength, and a succubus style absorption power. Why on Earth would she be here with the Cajun thief? As far as the Courier was aware, the Brotherhood and Remy did not get along, not since that little incident in Baghdad.

With a growl, Gambit let him go and tossed the card out the open window, the deuce exploding with a small pop.

"You could have told me about da contract," LeBeau spat as he paced away.

Jacob straightened his suit, "A Russian killed Henri, and besides, all my courier contracts are confidential."

"Dis was my _brother_," he argued harshly.

"I know," Jacob tried not to raise his voice, "I transported his body back to New Orleans for you, remember?" Body transport was not easy, even for _the_ Courier, and it was a high-dollar service, one which he waved the fee on seeing as Remy LeBeau was his friend.

"Just tell me who issued da contract," Gambit finally asked, perhaps a touch of pleading in his voice, it was hard to tell.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head, coming to a decision once he put all the facts together, "You're my friend, and I'm telling you, let it go. If I tell you who issued the contract you're going to destroy more than our friendship."

Red eyes narrowed at him, "You know something."

"I'm putting two and two together," the news that the Tokyo job had actually been a contract on Henri LeBeau put what seemed like coincidence into startling sense. "You need to walk away from this."

"Damn it, Jacob, I can't just walk away," the man shouted, his jaw going tight, "not again."

"Fine," he threw his hands up, his friend too stubborn for his own good, "but I'm not going to tell you who issued the contract."

"Jake—"

"No," he cut the man off with a hand gesture. "Blast me into smithereens with your cards if it'll make you feel better, I'm not going to let you ruin your life."

The thief looked like he seriously considered it, then waved him off, "Bah, you'll just put yourself back together."

Jacob let himself grin just a touch, it was quite handy to be on a first name basis with every one of your cells. What, you think he managed to always be this perfectly put together without a little help from some kind of mutant power? He saved an absolute fortune on haircuts and facial cleansing products.

"Hi," the woman walked up beside him, he had almost forgotten she was there, "name's Rogue."

She offered her hand and he checked, it was still gloved, so he cautiously took it, "Jacob Gavin Jr., and I know who you are."

"Oh, good, saves on introductions," she smiled as she shook his hand, her Southern drawl as thick as Gambit's but the dialect different, he couldn't place it. "Yah probably wondering why I'm here then."

"Yes," he said curiously, "what do you have invested in all this?"

"Why nothing, sugah," she said sweetly as she placed her other gloved hand over the one she was shaking and he could feel her grip tightly holding it in place, "nothing at all."

A minute later the Courier found himself at least ten thousand feet in the air, maybe more, perhaps less, he wasn't exactly in the position to check as he was dragged out the open window by the flying mutant. Especially when she flipped him over to hold onto him by his leg so he was upside down. If he hadn't been so terrified then he'd have a very lovely view of the hotel and surrounding Petra Mountains.

"Smell that fresh, clean air," she dragged in a deep breath, "kinda thin up here though."

"Are you crazy?" he shouted, his phone slipping from his pocket and disappearing into the background.

"Don't rightly believe so," she said as if she had to think about it, "but I figure even a fella who can talk to every cell in his body couldn't survive a fall like this. Gravity is a funny thing, yah know."

Unfortunately, she was probably right.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jacob challenged, nothing in what he could remember of the woman's dossier showed her to be as merciless as the other Brotherhood members could be.

"Sugah," she laughed tiredly, "my friend got shot, I've been bamboozled, and now a whole gaggle of Yakuza are probably after my head, I'm in no mood ta be dared."

Courier ran that through his head, "I thought you had nothing invested in this?"

"I don't," she adjusted her grip on his ankle, "guess that does make me crazy then."

"Oh, great," he was going to pass out and not from the blood running to his head as he managed to keep most of it circulating properly using his mutant ability.

"Now," she said seriously, "yah gonna be a good little courier and tell Gambit what he wants ta know?"

"No!"

"Why not?" it was like she really couldn't understand his reasoning.

"Because he's my friend," he shouted up at her, "it's better for him this way."

"If he's your friend then yah need to let him make that choice on his own," she shouted back at him. "He ain't gonna stop until he finds out, one way or another, and how much damage will he do ta himself searching for that truth? Who are yah trying ta protect here, you or him?"

Jacob opened his mouth to retort, but ultimately the woman was right. He could tell Remy to walk away all he wanted but the Cajun would never, ever, let it go. "I break a contract, it could ruin me."

"No one has ta know it was you," she said grabbing his flailing arm to pull him into a horizontal position. "I can make sure of it, I know people."

Looking over his shoulder to the ground far below, he had to ask, "Why are you doing this for him?"

"Because…" she hesitated, "he's my friend too, and I figure he ain't got many ta lose one."

So many questions ran through his mind, none of which he dared ask in such a precarious position. "Fine, I'll tell him everything I know."

Seemingly satisfied she took him under the shoulders, facing forward, and flew back down towards the hotel. Within moments they approached the window to his suite at a rather fast speed. The woman tossed him forward and he landed on the bed softly though it did creak at the strain. She of course landed lightly and walked around to the side of the bed.

Remy LeBeau, who had been casually flipping cards through his hand, simply stared in amusement at the sight as it played out.

"Gambit," she said like a school teacher, "Mr. Jacob Gavin Jr. here has something he'd like ta say to yah."

The thief walked over to the other side of the bed as Courier flipped himself over and sat up. "Does he now?"

Jacob glanced between them, letting his disapproval show, but ultimate he admitted, "I picked up the contract… in New Orleans."

"Marius." the Cajun immediately spouted the name of the Patriarch of the New Orleans Assassins Guild.

"No," Jacob quickly corrected, "it had no official markers or seals from the Assassins Guild and you know how much of a stickler they are about everything being 'proper'."

Gambit opened his mouth to speak then stopped, his eyes darting to the left and back as if it wasn't the answer he was expecting, "Then who?"

"I don't know exactly," he confessed, it was just another courier job, he remembered them all but nothing special came to mind about this one, "I picked up the package at the Pelham Hotel, no seals, just a plan brown envelope."

"Who gave it to you?" his friend asked.

"Didn't share a name and I didn't asked," Jacob added that last part as a reminder of how he does business. "A rather simple looking fellow. Close cropped blond hair, cracked tooth, but otherwise unremarkable."

LeBeau started to pace a bit, "What was he wearing?"

This was getting ridiculous, "Ah, khakis, brown, um, polo, blue I think."

"Anyone yah know?" Rogue asked.

Gambit shook his head, "No, but da way it sounds, could be thief or assassin."

"Or anyone from off the street," Jacob pointed out. "Hell, whoever issued it could have specifically sent someone to New Orleans to give it to me, they could be from anywhere."

"Guess I'll have to find out den," the man made up his mind quickly.

"No," the courier shook his head, this was what he feared, "no, this is why I didn't want to say anything, Remy. You can't go back to New Orleans, you know kind what trouble that will cause."

"Cross dat bridge," he said succinctly, then looked over at the woman, "not a bad bluff dere, cheri."

"Yah really think so?" she asked, crossing her arms, not looking too sure, "Thought I might've oversold it."

"Wait, what?" It took a second for Jacob to register the words, "Oh, I knew you wouldn't drop me."

"Of course she wouldn't, mon ami," Gambit grinned, "had petite really wanted to hurt you, you'd be lying in a drooling puddle right now."

Jacob glanced over at Rogue, she tapped her gloved finger against her arm and he remembered her ability to absorb both mutant abilities and memories from anyone she touched. He sighed and held his head in his hand, "Of course."

The Cajun laughed, "Yeah, dis one as gentle as a kitten."

"Oh, please," she wasn't terribly impressed with his assertion, "like I haven't figured out that yah can't charge those cards enough ta make them deadly, that's why yah favor 'em."

Gambit continued to grin, "Course, kittens have claws too."

Glancing between the two mutants that flanked his bed, "I'm gonna be sick."

"Aw, don't be like, mon ami," LeBeau said happily, patting him on the back, "you're going to get me into N'Orlean, seeing as I'm not exactly welcomed dere anymore."

"Oh, no, no, no," he shook his head, "I told you, I'm not your taxi service."

Rogue unzipped part of her jacket and pulled out a familiar folded over manila envelope and tossed it at him. "I'm hiring ya, that should cover it."

Turning the package over in his hands he noticed that it hadn't been opened in the weeks since Remy received it from the Italian. He wanted to know how she came to have possession of it, but instead asked, "You're hiring me to take you to New Orleans?"

"Yeah," she grinned, looking over at the Cajun, "and would Gambit count as a carry-on or plain old baggage?"

…

She was on the second ring of the third number she had tried. That was the thing about trying to get a hold of someone on most international watch lists for possible terrorist activities, made sending Christmas Cards a pain too.

"Who's this?" the voice on the other end asked rather severely.

"Pyro, it's Rogue," she said before he could decide to hang up on the number he didn't recognize.

"Hey, where are you?" his tone changed when he realized it was a friend.

"Private airport in Jordan," she answered honestly, glancing over to where LeBeau and Jacob sat waiting in the private lounge. She had borrowed one of the phones, didn't want to use hers, and found a corner to talk in. "Waiting for my ride ta get refueled, kinda last minute thing."

"What are you doing in Jordan?" her Australian friend asked.

"Long story," she almost laughed, "called ta check up on yah. How's tha shoulder?"

"Healing fine," Pyro said easily, most mutants tended to heal a little faster than regular humans. "Actually, QuickSilver wants me to help him with another mission for Magneto. Want in?"

Normally she'd say sure and roll with it, these were her Brotherhood friends after all, but glancing back at the two men she hesitated, "Do yah need me?"

"Not _particularly_," he referred to her absorption power, it was always how they saw her, "it's an easy one, me and Pietro should knock it out with no fuss."

She tried not to sound relieved, "Then I'll pass this time."

There was a significant pause on the other end of the line, "You okay, Rogue?"

"I'm fine," she said easily but the man would know better.

"Heard a rumor," he replied slowly, "you and the Cajun have been running around together. Stole from the Angel and then took out some Yakuza in Tokyo?"

"Yah know better than ta listen ta rumors," she tipped some humor into her voice.

"And I know last the time I saw you, you went out thief hunting," he pointed out, "don't tell me you let that Cajun say more than five words to you?"

She glanced back at the men, Courier reading a newspaper and Gambit showing a card trick to the stewardess who was entirely too interested in the simple ruse. Rogue and the Cajun had gone from Russia to New York to Tokyo to Jordan, thieving, fighting, and swindling the whole way… "Maybe."

"Ah, Rogue," he held out the vowels, "you got played, didn't you. What'd he trick you into?"

Sighing, she repeated the words to herself as she said them over the phone, "I know I got played, at first. But now, it's different. I'm here because I want to be."

"Come on, Rogue," he didn't bother to hid his frustrated, "you can't trust him. He's a snake charmer, remember, you said so yourself? He'll manipulate you into doing what he wants and you'll only think it was your idea."

"It's…" she hesitated, worried that he was right, but still, "it's not like that." Did she really just say that?

"Oh? Oooh…" she could imagine the shake of his head, "no, no Rogue, don't let him get into your head."

"You're not my brother, John, don't act like it," she said a bit too harshly into the phone. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he replied softly, always her best friend, "but this is the Cajun we're talking about. He's a loner and a womanizer. He can only be using you."

As he said the words, LeBeau continued to charm the stewardess with his fancy moves. Rogue would never be impressed with such simple parlor tricks… but was he smart enough to figure that out. She knew why she continued to carry on with the man, at least she _thought_ she did. Could she still be being played by a master?

"Maybe he is," she finally admitted it to herself as well as to the Aussie, "but I know why he's doing it, and I do want ta help him."

"He got me shot!" he said incredulously.

"Hey," she almost laughed, smirking at the phone, "you were tha one who said don't hold a grudge, remember?"

"I, uh, eth," there was an exasperated sigh from the other end, "just… don't trust him, Rogue."

"Oh," she grinned, sneaking another glance at the thief, "I don't trust him, got a heightened sense of self preservation with that man."

"Good," he at least seemed satisfied. "I'll keep this line free, you need help, you call."

She smiled at his over-protectiveness, there was a reason he was one of the few people in this world she trusted, "I will, thanks."

"You gonna tell me where you're going?" he asked.

"Course not," and with that she hung up on the Australian.

Watching the group, the stewardess was called away by the steward to help prep and the co-pilot was now talking to Courier so she gathered they would be ready to board soon. Her eyes caught the Cajun's from across the room and he smiled at her, just smiled.

Maybe the man was sincere in his gratefulness to have people stick by him in this troubled time, maybe he was playing the part he needed to in order to get her to tag along willingly.

She'd find out soon enough… and she had a feeling it was going to be one hell of a ride.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The deuce line, again, stolen from the comics. Courier gets some of the best lines.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks again everyone! I am a firm believer that all relationships have to be earned, so that's how I treat Gambit and Rogue in this. We're not even half-way through the story so lots more yet to come! Things are definitely going to heat up in New Orleans, in more ways than one…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

_Somewhere Over the Mediterranean_

"Alright," Courier put down the plane's phone, "I've arranged for transport to meet us on the tarmac and to take you wherever you want inside the city."

"The Guild's have spotters," Gambit pointed out.

"Yes," the dapper man nodded, "which is why I've started a rumor of a famous pop-star and her boyfriend possibly spending a romantic holiday amongst Mardi Gras. This isn't the first time I've snuck celebrities around. No one would be the wiser."

"Wait," Rogue spoke up, "it's Mardi Gras already?"

The New Orleans native blinked, "It is, huh."

"Tha town will be crowded with tourists," she considered all the tactical implications. "Gonna make it easier ta hide but harder ta seek."

"Don't worry about dat part," Gambit assured her, "da Guild will help us."

"If they don't boot you out," Jacob shook his head. "It's a bad idea to go back, Remy. You risk breaking the treaty between the Thieves and Assassins Guilds."

"My risk to take," he said matter-of-fact.

"Thieves Guild, Assassins Guild," she mumbled, sinking into her seat, "all sounds like a flipping video game."

Both of the men stared at her, Jacob finally saying, "And us being mutants isn't perfect fodder for comic books?"

"Point taken," she conceded, after all, if they had one about a playboy millionaire who dresses up in a metal suit, a demi-god, a WW2 super solider, and a guy who turns green when he's angry, why not mutants? Shaking those thoughts aside, she asked, "What's up with these Guilds anyway? I've heard of them, but I thought they were made up stories."

"Many do, cheri, we like our secrets," the thief leaned forward just slightly, "but once, back in the Ancient days of the Old Ways, you couldn't go two villages without finding a Thieves Guild. Every major center had an Assassins Guild. When America was first colonized, even before there were thirteen colonies, da Guilds were everywhere."

"Thieving and killing is like any other trade," Courier elaborated on the details with more information and less flair, "and with a trade comes guilds, the precursor to the union. They have their rules, their resources, and their territory. They protect each member's interests, settle disputes, make sure everything runs smoothly."

"But they ain't around like that anymore, _that_ I'd notice," she pointed out, "what happened?"

"Da world changed, petite," Gambit frowned, some genuine sadness there too. "It got smaller. Cops got smarter. Tech got trickier. Groups like da Mafias and Yakuza cut into da business. Like so many things, people forgot dat dere is… _an art_ to what we do."

Rogue tried to cover up her empathy with a small laugh, "Yah almost make it sound romantic."

"Romantic, tragic," he shrugged, leaning back in his seat, "not much space between, cheri."

She wanted to say something but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what.

"Only the strongest Guilds survived," the other man cut into the awkward silence, "Tokyo because of its relationship with the Yakuza, the Moscow Guild because of the Soviet Union, and a dozen or more Assassin Guilds can be found across the world. You can still find a Thieves Guild in about every major European country, a few darted out among Asia, Africa. Not much in South America, Thieve or Assassin, the Cartels have pretty much taken over there. As for the States, about a handful of Thieves Guilds and only two Assassin."

"And one of those two is in New Orleans, along with a Thieves Guild," it wasn't so much a question but wrapping the details around her brain.

"Da N'Orlean assassins handle da entire Eastern half of North America," the thief said casually, "beat out da DC and Toronto Guilds for supremacy before dose eventually collapsed, years ago. Da Thieves, well, we've always been a bit… broader minded in our territorial endeavors."

There was something else that was mentioned, "Yah said there was a truce in New Orleans? Why were they fighting?"

"Resources," Gambit shrugged.

"Everything became more competitive," Jacob elaborated, since Gambit didn't seem so inclined. "Not only were Guilds fighting against outsiders, but their own brethren Guilds. They needed recruits, assets, room to breathe. New Orleans is the only city which still holds both a Thieves and Assassin Guild. Take Moscow, you want a guilded thief, you contract out of Minsk."

"That's in Belarus," she pointed out.

"Exactly," he replied before continuing the history lesson. "There was heavy battle in New Orleans during the time Remy's great-grand-father and grand-father were Patriarchs of the Thieves Guild, wouldn't be uncommon to find a thief with… two bolts in his back."

"Like a calling card," she whispered, remembering how Henri died.

"It wasn't _specific_ to New Orleans, but yes," Courier was careful of his words, the Cajun withdrawing from the conversation as it turned towards darker times. "The fighting continued into Remy's father's reign as Patriarch but Jean-Luc and the Assassin Patriarch, Marius, saw fit to attempt some matter of peace."

As the courier mentioned Gambit's father, the mutant turned his face toward the plane's windows but she could see the tightness in his jaw line. Sore subject to say the least, but who was she to judge? Not like she had any happy relationship stories to tell of her own poppa.

"The truce?" she asked Jacob.

He glanced over at his friend but the Cajun seemed fit to keep staring out the window, so he sighed, "Don't know much about it, the full details have mostly been kept secret, except that a condition of the truce was that Remy be excommunicated from the Guild and told never to return to New Orleans… on pain of death."

Before she had a chance to check her brain, the words tumbled from her mouth towards the thief, "What did you do?"

He turned to her and for the first time she truly believed she was struck by the intensity of his gaze. Red eyes glowering, but tired, jaw tight, but resigned, his voice even but pained, "I let it go, _that's_ what I did."

Stolen memories rushed forward, pain and suffering that went by so quickly she might as well been shot in the heart by a high-powered rifle. Doubling over she grabbed her head, trying to force it all back into the dark recesses of her mind where Danvers continued to scream at her.

"Rogue," she heard her name called and two hands caught inside the sleeves of their coat made her look up. "Look at me," her eyes flicked momentarily red before fading back to green. Gambit was on his knees before her, the same odd look in his eyes, only masked with worry this time. "You alright, cheri?"

"Yeah," she coughed, pulling back from his grip and taking several breaths, "something triggered a memory, a strong one," she rubbed her head, the pain subsiding, "happens," she lied.

The thief gestured to Jacob, who was half-out of his seat, to pass him a bottle of water. The courier quickly handed it over and Gambit gave it to her, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said quietly, taking a few sips, leave it to a Southern boy to treat every malady with water, "it was just a flash, I don't even know what it was, mostly just… pain..."

Silently she finished that sentence with 'and you carry it around with you.'

"You should get some rest, petite" he stood up, putting back the mask of the Cajun, "we still have several hours till N'Orlean, don't know what'll be waiting for us."

Nodding slowly she agreed, she could use the sleep after the sudden assault. It wouldn't be the first time such an occurrence had happened, powerfully strong emotions left just as visible scars on her psyche as they did the original owner.

But why was it getting harder to control them? The pain in her temple sharper, more vivid? Why did it seem that every time she looked in a mirror Danvers was there literally staring back at her?

Not for the first time since her death, Rogue could really use her adopted mother. She'd be able to make sense of what was happening.

"You can have the bedroom," Jacob offered the built in suite at the rear of the plane.

"I couldn't," she tried to politely refuse but the bed sounded a lot better than a reclined chair.

"As a gentleman, I insist," he smiled softly, gesturing at the steward and stewardess who had come forward when they heard the commotion. "Leena, please take Miss… Rogue back to the suite, make sure she has everything she needs."

"Of course, sir," she quickly stated, a slight nod to her head, then turned to Rogue, "this way ma'am."

"Thank you," she said almost awkwardly to the courier, her brain still swimming in a mess of memories and emotions that weren't hers.

Following the tall blonde woman to the suite she found it was cramped but the bed was at least a double, taking up most of the room. Tossing her coat on the end of the mattress and kicking off her boots she collapsed.

Some days, she hated to sleep, she didn't know whose hopes she would dream.

…

The steward served them drinks as Leena was busy seating Rogue. It had been a bit of an intense moment, the woman's eyes changing from green to red, the color of LeBeau's. She had an absorption power that was touch-only, he thought, but she had never touched the Cajun the entire time from when they burst into his hotel room to getting on the plane.

As the courier watched his friend flip aimlessly through a deck of cards, he had to ask, "Geesh, Remy, what did you do to her?"

"I might have taken something I couldn't steal," he said cryptically.

Jacob thought the man capable of stealing anything. "And that would be?"

He caught the last thrown card and paused, "A kiss."

"Well, that explains it," although it wasn't the answer he was expecting, "you've traumatized the poor woman for life."

Gambit gave him a wry look, "As powerfully charismatic of a personality I have, non, I didn't cause dis," there was a short pause, "Didn't help it neither."

The more he learned, the less he understood, "What's going on?"

"I tricked her," there was almost an apology in his voice, not something Courier heard often from his friend. "I needed her help with da Worthington heist and I knew she wouldn't go for it unless she understood da situation."

"Ah, she kisses you, she gets your memories, she understands," he easily followed the train of thought. "Isn't that a bit underhanded, even for you?"

He made no move to refute the statement, "Sounded like a good idea at da time."

"And now?"

"Something's wrong," his eyes flitted around like they did when he was hard at thinking, the man always in some kind of motion. "Never mind what she said, dat wasn't normal."

"And how could you know that?" he questioned, "You've known her all of what, a few days?"

"You can see it in her eyes, mon ami," LeBeau said the words with simple elegance, "she's afraid, afraid dat it's happening, afraid dat she can't control it."

"Control what?" he asked quietly.

"Still working dat out," the thief frowned, going back to flipping cards and Jacob began to wonder where the King of Hearts was, he hadn't seen it the whole time since Jordan.

Then it struck him, "You care about her."

Gambit flipped two more cards then stopped, looking up, "You're right, going back to N'Orlean is a bad idea. I don't know how da family or da Assassins will react, I'll be walking through a swamp of gators," he said the words casually but methodically, as he if was plotting to steal the _Mona Lisa_. "Thankfully, petite can fly. She can also handle herself and watch my back at da same time. You'll excuse if I show interest in an investment towards my continued well-being."

The courier crossed his arms, not entirely convinced, "You never worked with anyone before, what makes her special?"

"I work with you all the time," LeBeau both corrected and dodged.

"No," Jacob held up his hands, having none of that, "you go steal things, fight people, I stand as far away as I possibly can. In fact, I _insist_ on it."

"You need to learn to live a little, mon ami," the thief laughed.

"And you a little less," he shook his head at the familiar trade-off, "but answer the question, why Rogue?"

"Take dat up with petite," he shrugged, easing back into his seat, "I didn't ask her to follow me to Tokyo… well…," he chuckled at a memory, "I did tease her something awful but she made dat choice on her own volition."

"No, no," the courier splayed his hands in frustration, "you only ever surround yourself with women like… Leena," he double checked she was out of ear shot then continued. "And you only ever work alone. This isn't like you."

"Mon ami," Gambit leaned forward, his voice going lower in a conspiratorial tone, "don't you realize I know what others assume of me, what dey… _expect_ of me?"

"Well, I…" Jacob faltered.

A grin ran across the Cajun's face, the kind of smile that could only belong to the devil himself. "How do you think I'm always one step ahead?"

Jacob sat dumbfounded, "What game are you playing here, Gambit?"

The thief chuckled, reclining his seat and tipping the hat down over his eyes so he could sleep, "Wake me when we hit Florida."

A thousand questions ran though the Courier's mind, everything from how Rogue got involved to what the thief was planning. He knew he could ask them each questions and he'd not receive a single straight answer from either of the pair.

Jacob just hoped his friend knew what he was doing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:**This chapter has one of the first scenes I ever conceptualized when I thought up the outline for this story. Things are going to start getting deep for both our heroes as the past begins sneaking up on them. And again, can't give enough thanks for the reviews, you are all awesome!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

_Louis Armstrong International Airport, New Orleans_

"I thought thieves liked ta blend in?" Rogue questioned as Gambit carefully folded his trademark trench into the small duffle bag.

"A good thief can hide anywhere," he shrugged, his hat coming off next, "a great thief doesn't have to."

She guessed that made sense, but ultimately, "Except when he goes home."

"Dey'll figure out I'm here soon enough, cheri," there was a small pause in his answer she almost didn't catch. "It'll give us lead time to get to da safe house."

"Yah have a safe house?" she asked, picking up his hat and twirling it around. "Thought yah hadn't been back ta New Orleans for, what, a decade?"

He turned his red eyes towards her, "Doesn't mean I wasn't planning to."

The man's voice was so mixed between indifference, hope, and sorrow that Rogue wasn't sure where to go with it. He was the most confusing man she had ever met. One second she has him figured, the next she's thrown. That's probably how the thief liked it, keeping people off balance was a handy skill for someone like him to have.

Glancing down at the trilby in her hands she realized she needed some way to cover her distinctive white streak.

"What yah think?" she tipped the hat onto her head and modeled it, beginning to understand why the man wore one, just having it on made her feel more stylish.

Gambit stared at her for a moment, a tug on his lips as if he was trying not to laugh, but he said with all seriousness, "Petite, is it your plan to slowly divest me of all my belonging till I stand as naked as da day I was born?"

"Hey," she grinned, shrugging nonchalantly, "only take what yah can steal, right."

She expected him to retort something like 'you wanted o'l Remy naked, you only need to ask' but instead he chuckled, shaking his head as if he'd gotten the better of, and went back to finish packing his bag.

It was probably best he did as Rogue became slightly mortified that she was full-on flirting with the thief. She hadn't really planned to but it just… happened and it was becoming a very annoying habit. Well, this _was_ Remy LeBeau, the snake charmer, and apparently she was the snake.

Pyro was right, the Cajun would worm his way into her head if she let him… but a part of her didn't think that was so bad. It's not like anything could actually happen between them, it was all just a little fun. But she didn't dare let herself be romanced, it wasn't something she could afford to think about. And even if she did want to think about it, Gambit was the last person she should allow to charm her considering, well, it's Gambit.

Snake charming is the same as snake hunting… never be the one to hold the bag.

"Okay," Jacob came up through the cabin and she turned towards the courier who paused, looked at the hat on her head, glanced at Gambit, then back to the hat, blinked, opened his mouth and shut it again amusingly. Shaking it off he held up to large winter coats, black. "Sorry, not very stylish, but they do the job."

"One does as one does," the thief said poetically, taking an offered jacket, Rogue grabbing the other, her brown leather already stored in her duffle.

"Try these," Courier passed over a large pair of men's sunglasses, Ray-Ban of course.

"What you think, petite," he tried them on and considering that she only really ever saw the man with his hat it actually made a discernible difference in his appearance.

She nodded appreciatively, "Well, simple is best. And it works for Superman."

"That's a comic book," he frowned.

"And you've always looked quite comical ta me," she attempted not to grin but it was so hard not to and damn it, she was doing it again.

"Ahem," Jacob cleared his throat, "the car is waiting, hired out of Baton Rouge, no ties to the Guilds," the courier gestured to the steward to take the duffle bags and he did so quickly and efficiently, "but once you're in the city proper, you're on your own."

Gambit reached out to shake the man's hand. "Thank you, Jake."

Rogue watched the exchange between the men with interest. It didn't take a psychic to see that the two shared a bond as close as she did with Pyro though she doubted either would admit to it. Jacob took his friend's hand as if it might be the last time, the thief recognizing that it just might.

"Stay out of trouble, Remy," Jacob offered, his words hollow as everyone in the room knew that was the last thing the Cajun thief was going to do.

"We're ready, sir," the steward called, breaking up the moment.

"Den we best be off," Gambit moved past them towards the door.

Rogue was about to follow when Jacob caught her arm, saying, "You're right, there are few who call Remy LeBeau friend, even less he calls friend in return."

Unable to find the right words to note her understanding she nodded and pulled away, joining Gambit at the door. The thief offered his arm and she took it like a 'girlfriend starlet' should. Ducking their heads, they ran down the staircase and made it into the waiting car.

…

"Hey," Jimmy sat up, grabbing the binoculars, "dat Leer finally unloaded."

"Oh yeah?" Marion leaned over and peered out, Jimmy having taken the good set.

Jimmy watched as two people exited, covered up in heavy coats, the woman trying awfully hard to hide under a hat. "Guy and a girl. She trying really hard to hide her face. Wonder who she is."

"Bah," the older man went back to the control board, "probably another tourist come for de Gras."

"Yeah," he lowered the binoculars. "You know, I hear dat Remy LeBeau might be coming back to town."

Marion let out a snort, "Not if he smart. Marius will have his head."

"I'm surprised Jean-Luc don't have his yet," Jimmy bartered back.

"Now why would he go do a silly ding like dat?" the man scoffed.

"Come on," Jimmy got up and grabbed himself a cup of coffee, "Marius had to been behind Henri's death."

"Hah," Marion laughed, "one of you die and immediately you call fowl," he wiggled his hands in the air, "must be da assassins."

"It _was_ an assassin," he rolled his eyes, going back to his seat in the tower.

"Russian," his friend pointed out, "bought and paid for. Had we wanted Henri dead, we'd done it ourselves."

Jimmy had spent the better part of three years sharing a spotting gig with the assassin, he normally wasn't that open about his Guild's trade. "So, dere honor amongst assassins den?"

"Hah," he laughed again, "you know how much dem Ruskie's charge? Outrageous."

…

"Stop here," Gambit called to the driver after what seemed like a good two hour drive, the sun starting to set. Rogue hadn't visited New Orleans before, but she could spot a defensive driving posture, the thief having the car zig-zag through random streets, making sure they weren't being tailed.

The vehicle stopped and the Cajun was out before the driver had a chance to get his door open to do his proper chauffeur duties. Rogue followed, both still clad in their heavy coats, hat hiding her streak. The trunk was already popped open so Gambit handed her a duffle and took his own.

The poor driver stood at attention, a bit puzzled as he was likely used to his fares being, well, what they were supposed to be pretending to be. "Would that be all?" he asked, touch of uncertainty in his voice.

"Dat be all, merci," Gambit flipped a coin at the man and turned away, gesturing for her to follow him towards an alley.

A glance back at the driver and he was still standing there, staring at the coin he had clumsily caught. In the darkening light, she could see the golden glint.

"Dis way," he turned down the alley, keeping low. The houses on either side were nice, not mansion nice but no middle-class families here. If she was right, they were just off of St. Charles Avenue, one of New Orleans' most famous and historical streets, and where part of the Mardi Gras Day procession traveled.

Stopping at a gated wooden fence, Rogue had feelings of déjà vu as the man used his knife to pop the lever.

He watched as she slipped into the yard, the lawn green and trim despite it being the edge of winter. It was cared for, but there weren't any ornaments, furniture, not even a stray ball from the neighbor's kid. The house itself was two stories, the front a double gallery style popular in the area, white with a blue trim. At the back, the first floor jutted out into what was probably a kitchen or dining area, while columns held up a roof that over hanged the recessed second floor.

"Wait here," he whispered, dropping the duffle next to her as they approached the back door.

Before she had a chance to say anything, he used his kinetically charged spring step to climb up to the balcony. "I thought this was yah safe house?" she whispered as she watched him disappear.

About a minute passed and the back door opened, Gambit standing at the alarm, punching in a code, sunglasses tipped up on his head. "You think I carry da key around with me, petite?"

"I suppose yah wouldn't," she picked up both duffels easily, walking inside the home which was… empty to the point of sadness.

The room was a kitchen, though only held the basic large appliances and a small breakfast table. Walking through to the main hall she could see both the sitting room and living room, practically empty of any furnishing save a couple covered chairs and side tables.

"This is yours?" she asked, trying to understand why a man like LeBeau would have such a nice, expensive, home as his safe house.

"Well, after a fashion," he took his duffel from her, "it belongs to Robert Lord."

"And yah Robert Lord?" she ran the alias over in her head, not a bad one, quite close to Remy LeBeau but not terribly so.

He grinned, "When I need to be."

She smiled back, appreciative of the fact he could keep an alias running and unknown for so long, "The place is so clean, no dust anywhere."

"Got a caretaker, hardworking man comes once a month," he let out a bit of a chuckle, "doesn't know about da Guilds," his accent suddenly changed to something much more posh, "thinks I'm a European with more money than sense."

"Well, he's half right," she couldn't help it, he left himself open on that one.

He chuckled, before gesturing to the stairs, "Gonna check on da utilities, you pick a room, should be linens in da closets, might want to air dem first."

"Right," she nodded and the two went their separate ways, Rogue heading up the semi-grand staircase, empty white walls marred by photos that once hung for visitors to see, probably from the previous owners.

There were three bedrooms, the first one with a King size bed, large bathroom, walk in closet, facing the street, obviously the master suite. For some reason it didn't feel right to take it, not exactly in the Goldilocks kind of way, but enough that she moved on to the other two, basic double sized beds, adequate facilities. She took the one that faced the back yard, it had a gas fireplace installed which would be great for the colder nights.

In the closets were plastic bins, older in their style, as if they'd been there for ten years without moving. Simple white linens and pillows were in it as he said they would be. Thankfully there were no moth-balls, she couldn't stand the smell of them, it reminded her of home, correction, her first home.

Setting up her flashlight to illuminate the room she made the bed, even fluffed the pillows. Throwing the ugly winter coat into the closet she unpacked only a few items, always have to be ready to leave in a hurry in a situation like this. Checking out the bathroom she looked at her ghostly image in the mirror above the sink, still wearing Gambit's hat.

Reaching up to take it off, she instead ran her hand down the brim.

What was it about that annoying Cajun? He confused her, frustrated her, infuriated her, exasperated her, and… she let him. It wasn't like he was the first guy to ever flirt with her despite knowing of her condition, there were even a few she would have highly considered a relationship with had her abilities not gotten in the way.

What made Gambit different?

Was it because he treated her different? Or she thought he did? Or he made her think she thought he did?

Letting out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a growl she snatched the offending item, "Don't let him get into yah head, girl."

Figuring it was about time she returned the hat, she headed downstairs, plenty of illumination filtering in from the street lamps to light her way. He wasn't in the kitchen but she spotted his un-stylish coat thrown over one of the covered chairs in the living room so she wandered in. Wooden floors, brick fireplace, fancy tile work on the ceiling, all the wooden molding carved, the kind of stuff that isn't seen in homes anymore, well, not without paying more than the house was likely worth.

Pain, searing pain spiked through her mind and the world shifted.

Falling to her knees as she clutched her head, hundreds of voices screamed at her, flooding out from the pit she had thrown them into in order to silence their cries, their dreams and their fears. Danvers was at the forefront, her psyche stronger than anything else hidden away in her mind.

Mustering every inch of will she had left she pushed back the onslaught, dragging every bit of stolen conscious down into the abyss. This was her body, her mind, no one else's.

Time stood still as each escaping psyche eventually succumbed to her will. Sitting back, she caught her breath as the voices fell quiet, well, as close to silence as it was ever going to get.

"What tha?" she muttered as she saw that the covered chairs and tables in the room had moved. Not a lot, just pushed back from where she had fallen. Rogue had absorbed the powers of several mutants who had telekinesis abilities… and they had been among the offending voices…

Grabbing the hat where it had fallen she got to her feet, not wanting to think of the implications.

She went to leave when she saw one of the small side tables which had moved only a few inches had something underneath it, the white sheet caught on a box. Curiosity getting the better of her she sat the hat on top of the table and tugged the box out from under the cover. Inside were photo frames, only slightly dusty, having been mostly protected in their hidden spot.

The first one was of a young Gambit and Henri standing together, the younger brother's arm planted squarely on the older man's back. There was also a woman, blonde, pretty and the way she hung off of Henri told Rogue that this must be Mercy, the fallen thief's wife. There was nothing in the grab bag of Gambit's memories to put the moment in context, the broad smiles enough to tell the story.

Flipping through the frames she found another that caught her attention, the young Cajun, seventeen maybe, standing behind a woman, his arms wrapped around her, holding her against him. He smiled, but not like in the other photo, this was the kind reserved for when a man is truly happy, truly content… in love.

Golden hair in braids, the beautiful woman was grinning, like she had caught the biggest fish in the lake.

Memories tried to surface at the image, the same emotions attached to the card in her pocket.

"Got da water and electricity on," Gambit came into the room, pausing as he saw her standing with the photo in her hands.

"This isn't a safe house," she said quietly, turning the image to face him, finally something about the man making sense, "this a home, tha kind of place two people build a life together."

The Cajun was a master poker player and finally she understood why, his entire face going into a blank, unreadable, slate.

"Who is she?" Rogue asked softly, chiding herself that she was afraid of the answer while at the same time desperate to know who made this troubled man so happy, gave him a sense of peace.

Gambit walked forward slowly, the creaking of the wooden floors loud, echoing through the house. He took the frame from her hands and examined the image as if he had to remind himself what was there.

After a good minute he tossed the photo back into the box where it hit with a loud clank that almost startled her.

"You should get some sleep," he said without a hint of emotion, picking up his hat.

"I slept on tha plane," she said defensively, she knew more was going on here than the thief let on and this was good enough proof of it. Rogue didn't mind getting played, she only wanted to know what the game was.

"Den don't sleep," he shrugged, turning away from her, "we've got a busy day ahead of us and jet-lag can sneak up on you, I'm turning in."

Rogue wanted to scream at him, demand answers, but she knew she had absolutely no right to… plus it would make her even more of a hypocrite than she already was. Instead, she settled for asking, "What's tomorrow?"

He paused in the threshold of the living room, "We pay our respects."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Thanks again everyone for the reviews! I love your reactions, brings a smile to my face! I like a good mimic in my stories, call-backs as well, keep that in mind as we start towards the latter half of this fic!

Emily Rose as Mercy LeBeau  
>Niall Matter as Claude<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

_Thieves Guild House_

Thieves stole, that was what they did by definition, so it made absolute sense that their guild house wasn't some run down shack or seedy warehouse, but a full on New Orleans mansion near the center of town complete with gated fence, latest security measures, and long drive way. Several Guild Houses were dotted around the city but the one they approached was special, it had been Henri's.

Rogue had no doubt Gambit could have snuck into the mansion easily enough but that wasn't the point.

The guard at the gatehouse was been struck somewhere between terrified and relieved when he saw LeBeau appear, but he pulled himself together and called up to the house. Moments later a man came jogging down the drive, about her age, brown hair and that same thieves gait. He stopped just beyond the closed gate and took stock of the Cajun, as if he was trying to reconcile memories against the man. "You shouldn't have come back, Remy."

"You honestly expected me not to, Claude?" the thief replied.

The man sighed, signaling for the guard to open the gate. "Get inside, da assassins like to keep watch on da houses. Half of N'Orlean probably know you're here by now."

"Taken care of," Rogue quelled the man's worries. She swept the area clean before Gambit even got a mile from the mansion.

Claude looked over at the red head as if he had just seen her, not exactly a smart thing for a thief to overlook, but she supposed he was a bit taken aback by LeBeau's appearance. "Who's this?"

"She's with me," Gambit replied easily and though wary, the other thief accepted it.

The three walked up the drive and while the Cajun kept looking straight ahead, she gawked at the beauty of the grounds and the southern style mansion with tall colonnades and wrap around balconies. As they got closer more and more individuals funneled out onto the balconies or peered through windows. After what Jacob had told her about the treaty she figured Gambit coming back would be something of a spectacle, but it was another thing to be standing in the thick of it.

Walking through the house she could see everything from pool tables to pick pocket training rooms complete with dressed up dummy's with bells on them. However, the area was eerily silent as everyone watched the excommunicated thief's return from shadows and doorways. There was a trepidation in the air, so heavy she could taste it.

They traveled up to the second floor where the living quarters would be, Gambit told her that the younger kids stayed together in big dorms while the trainers and House Patriarch had their own rooms. Henri had been a House Patriarch, one step below Guild Patriarch and part of the Council. Mercy took over the position after his death.

Heading into a suite of rooms, a woman stood from a sofa. Mercy LeBeau had soft features hidden in a strong composure, made all the more striking by the black blouse and pants she wore.

"Mercy," the Cajun said respectfully as they approached, taking off his hat, a genuinely respectful gesture that almost surprised Rogue.

"Remy LeBeau," she spoke the words like she didn't know what to do with them, "I oughta hog tie you and put your worthless hide on da first train North, dat's what Henri woulda done."

"Aye," he agreed, bowing his head slightly.

The woman looked she was just about to give the word to fetch a rope but her composure broke and she moved forward to give her brother-in-law an embrace. They hugged each other tight, like the two old friends who lost someone they both loved dearly that they were.

"I miss him, Remy," she heard the woman say softly.

"I miss him too," he returned the statement quietly.

She stood back, fighting tears and pulling herself together with a strength Rogue had to admire. "Now, I know you'd not come back here unless you found something, tell me, Marius behind dis?"

"Non," he said with confidence, "but can't speak for others in his Guild."

"Dat troublesome news," Mercy rolled the news around in her head, then her eyes fell on the other woman, "Forgotten your manners, Remy?"

"Mercy, dis is Rogue," he gestured towards the red head and Rogue offered up an attempt at a smile. "She's my backup, in case you tried to send me on dat train."

"Still considering it," Mercy reminded him, giving the female mutant the once-over before gesturing to the sofa, "sit, tell me why you came back to put us all at risk."

…

It was half conversation, half interrogation, Mercy making sure that she got every detail out of her brother-in-law, the ones he forgot and the ones he avoided, especially those. He got the painful moment of Henri's death out of the way first, recounting how he chased down the assassin but ultimately didn't kill him. Mercy was glad, Henri wouldn't have wanted it that way, the Russian was just a man hired for a job, making a living same as everyone else, and when it ain't personal, you don't make it so.

Besides, the Moscow Guild doesn't accept failure and getting caught… that was a loose end that would take care of itself.

Then there was the Catherine Vault theft, Mercy acknowledging what an impressive feat it was to have stolen anything from the complex, though Remy admitted that the Brotherhood of Mutants made an excellent distraction. That's when the red head with the white streak came into the story. She had been part of another break in that was as equally impressive, but Remy's actions had led to the woman having to fight her way out of the Vault, also not an easy thing to do.

Apparently it took a fair amount of convincing to get her to help with the Worthington heist, though not the kind of 'convincing' she'd come to expect from her brother-in-law.

Turned out the woman was a mutant, a flying/strength one, but that wasn't all. These were the hardest details to get out of her brother-in-law. He seemed to have a respect for the woman, Rogue he called her, and was only going to share as much as he had to. Mercy knew enough of Remy to know that if he was willing to trust the other mutant to watch his back then the red head deserved her consideration.

However, as the story progressed, there was much that didn't add up.

"No, he doesn't sound familiar," Mercy thought over the description of the man who had given Courier the package. "Claude?"

The second-in-command shook his head, "I'll speak to Emil, if anyone would know, he would."

"Emil," Gambit laughed the name, "figured he'd be in jail."

"He was," she stifled a grin, "many times."

"Gets himself caught," Claude didn't bother hiding his smile, "just so he can break out again."

"He's downstairs, took over Henri's lock picking classes," she paused, scared that she'd never get used to the idea that her beloved was gone, even more frightened that she might, "though I doubt any work is getting done today. Why don't you go talk to him, and da other trainers, someone has to know who da man was."

He nodded at her, giving her a knowing look. Seeing Remy was painful as while he may look nothing like his adopted brother the two had a kindred that went beyond blood. Mercy needed a moment to breath… and to cover all the angles.

"Rogue," she called to the woman as she was about to follow the thief out the room, "you should stay, thieves don't like strangers."

The red head glanced over at Remy, "Gambit?"

"She's right, petite, dey may not talk if you're around," he tipped his hat back onto his head, "don't fret, when I need you, you'll know."

Rogue nodded and the men left the room leaving the two of them. The outsider looked awkwardly around, tucking gloved hands into her coat pockets, it was March but surely she wasn't that cold? The woman glanced over at a Picasso that hung over the fireplace, "Nice painting."

"Yes," Mercy replied, trying not to let the memories of her last anniversary with Henri come to the surface, there was time to think about him later, right now she had a Guild to protect and this stranger could pose a threat.

The younger woman examined the photos on the mantel politely avoiding conversation, eyes stopping on the wedding portrait of herself and Henri before drifting off again. Rogue seemed more interested in the one of her, Henri and Remy after a trip to England, looking at it as if she might have seen it before.

A good interrogation starts with some kind of report, and Mercy knew she'd have to make the first move. "Dat was years ago," she let the red head know, "after we stole da Crown Jewels from da Tower of London."

That caught Rogue's attention and she turned her head, a surprised look on her face, "They were stolen?" her accent was clearly Mississippian, something Remy had neglected to mention.

"Yes, many times," Mercy pressed on and couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips, "da Jewels are listed among da Guilds as strictly 'catch and release'. It's a test, a rite of passage as it were, you're not worth your metal if you haven't stolen da Crown Jewels at least once."

A curl formed on the woman's lips, "At least once?"

"Dat," Mercy pointed at the photo, "was fifth for me, sixth for Henri… Remy lost count. He likes to have a go every time dey up da security measures."

"I imagine he does," she let out a chuckle.

"He calls you Rogue," the House Matriarch ventured, testing the waters, "don't you have a proper name?"

There wasn't even a small pause, "I suppose everyone does."

Interesting reply, and she wondered, "You only go by Rogue den?"

"Suits me fine," the woman shrugged.

A decent thief, handy in a fight, smart, strong willed, Southern, and just a bit cryptic, Mercy had to smile, "I see why he likes you."

Rogue laughed, shaking her head, "I'm just tha hired muscle."

"Non," she wasn't amused, "by my count dat's not been true for at least two countries now."

The red head gave her a look that said 'figured that one out, didn't yah' and replied, "It's my choice ta be here, don't matter ta anyone else."

"My husband was murdered," Mercy countered sternly but calmly, turning fully towards the other woman, "and my brother in law is brazen enough to send dis city spiraling back into war. It matters to me quite a bit. Now, you're obviously not sleeping with him, yet. Is dat why you're here?"

Rogue laughed, "Do yah think that would be an issue if that's what I wanted?"

"Fair point," Mercy had to give her that one, her brother-in-law's reputation, while somewhat blown out of proportion, was very well deserved, "Den why are you here?"

The woman tried to stand up to the thief's gaze, but not many could, not even Remy LeBeau. When Mercy wanted something, she had it, there was no question, no chance, it was hers.

The mutant sighed, "Would ya believe because I'm a hypocrite?"

"Yes," it was a legitimate response, however, "but dat doesn't explain da why."

Rogue looked over her shoulder as if she expected Remy to walk back in the door and she didn't want him to hear what she said next, "I've been here, had a loved one taken from me, had tha burning desire for revenge which drives every action upon compounding action."

The words were so sad, raw, it could only mean, "Didn't end well, I take it."

"Not for them," she said with a quiet pain and there was no doubt in the thief's mind that the woman meant every word she said next. "In a way, I got exactly what I wanted… and I've regretted it every day since."

"Dat's why you're a hypocrite," Mercy almost felt sorry for the woman, almost, "you're helping him do exactly what you regret doing. Why?"

"Because I could tell him how this will all end, but he wouldn't listen," Rogue gave a resigned sigh. "I wouldn't have… but no one should have ta go through this alone."

Mercy could relate, she knew that nothing good could come of Remy returning, either because of the treaty or his own lust for revenge. She remembered how he was a decade ago, all that pain he crammed down into his soul for the sake of the Guild, the family. Now that his family was hurt once again he didn't have it in him to walk away a second time… and in a way, "I'm a hypocrite too."

"Pardon?" the other woman blinked.

"Every year da Guild Houses have dese games," she picked up the photo of the three of them, "a test of skills and a chance to mingle. All da girls of my House, well, dey would spend their time talking about Remy, da most charming and dashing thief since Jean-Luc himself," she ran her hand over her beloveds image, "I went with dem to see what da fuss was about. Remy could have been running around naked with bells on his feet and sparklers in his hair, I only had eyes for Henri from da moment I saw him."

"I never met Henri," Rogue said quietly, then oddly, "but what I know of him, he seemed like a good man."

"Da polar opposite of his brother," she let out a small laugh, "reserved, calm, even shy… but mostly he was sweet, caring, brilliant. A great thief mind you, da best, better dan Remy even, not dat he would ever let him know dat. He'd never want to take dat wind from his brother's sail. Remy may have been adopted, but Henri treated him as blood."

The red head looked as if she might say something but thought better of it. Mercy couldn't blame her, what was there to say in a situation like this. She didn't know her or Henri, barely knew Remy. Rogue was an outsider, but Remy trusted her, perhaps that's why Mercy felt a bit more at ease telling her this.

"Henri was sure someone was putting undo leverage against Jean-Luc and Marius, attempting some kind of takeover of da Guilds," she put the photo back onto the ledge. "His duty was first and foremost to da family… and I know dat is why he was murdered," her jaw tightened. "Remy coming back can only cause trouble, put da family in more danger and Henri wouldn't want dat."

"Henri went ta Gambit," Rogue pointed out softly.

"I know," she said quietly, "which tells me Henri believed dat whatever is happening is bigger dan da family, bigger dan da treaty."

"That why ya gonna let Gambit stay?" she asked.

"No," Mercy looked into the woman's green eyes, "I want Remy to find da bastard responsible, tear him to pieces and feed him to da gators, Guild and treaty be damned," she gave out a choked sob at finally being able to say that out loud, she would gladly let New Orleans burn if it got revenge against her beloved's death.

"But…" the matron thief hesitated, "it's not what Henri would have wanted. Not for me, not for Remy, not for da family. I find myself stuck at an impasse…"

Silence passed between them, neither able to put words to the moment.

Mercy placed the photo back on the ledge, "Seeing as you've been down dis road, Rogue, can any good come of it?"

The red headed, white streaked, mutant considered the question for better than a moment but less than an eternity before saying, "Tha road hasn't ended yet, don't think it ever will."

Mercy nodded, understanding, "Den perhaps you can be our conscious, no? Steer us onto da right path?"

"Nah," she slightly laughed, the tired echoes of someone too far gone to come back, "I may have more than enough conscious running around my head, but I ain't no Jiminy Cricket. Besides, you seemed ta have already figured it out yourself, and Gambit, well, I told yah, he not gonna listen to me."

"Rogue," Mercy put her hand on the woman's shoulder and she flinched slightly at the move but the thief pressed on, "from what I know of Remy, I think you might be surprised."

…

Rogue was unsure what to make of the woman's words but was saved from trying to piece everything together by the thief's return.

"Well?" Mercy asked as Gambit, Claude, and a tall man with red hair walked through the door.

"Non," Gambit answered, a grimace on his face.

"Could be he's not from here," Mercy ran through the options, "or some kind of patsy, a tourist given a few c-notes to give da Courier a package."

"Been considered," the Cajun nodded, then grinned, "think you can spare a ride, Mercy, need to take a trip to da swamp."

The Matriarch smiled, "Of course, Claude will see to it."

Rogue watched the knowing grins pass between them. "What's in tha swamp?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews! Jean1 brings up some interesting points, and I will say that Mercy and Rogue aren't exactly removed from the situation and seeing things through their grief and guilt. As for Gambit, definitely keep in mind what he said to Jacob on the plane. ;-)

Octavia Spencer as Tante Mattie  
>Richard Chamberlain as John-Luc LeBeau<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen<strong>

_The Swamp_

When Gambit said swamp, he wasn't kidding. It took one of those flat bottom boats with a large fan for propulsion to get across the lily laden waters, tall thin trees rising ghostly above them. Rogue had never been on one of the boats before and she found she quite enjoyed it, it was like flying but without the guilt that came with it.

Eventually they pulled up to a dock and she saw a rather large shotgun house set farther back on more solid ground. Painted a deep brown with all manner of VooDoo hexes and charms hanging off it, the long bungalow looked both intimidating and oddly inviting at the same time.

"We'll wait at the boat," Claude referenced himself and their driver.

Gambit didn't seem too sure about that but ultimately nodded, "Come, cheri, want you to meet my Tante Mattie."

"Tante," she rolled the word around as he hopped off the boat first, "that means Aunt, right, in French?"

"Oui," he smiled as he offered her his hand to help her off. With a raised brow and slight shake of her head she let him help her even though she could have just flown to the dock. It was kind of nice, most people who knew of her ability wouldn't even do something so relatively safe, but Gambit never once flinched away from her since Russia.

The only other men to do that were Pyro and QuickSilver but then they had known her for years and it had taken that long for them to finally feel comfortable around her. The thief only had days…

She really needed to stop reading into things, it was going to lead to nothing but trouble.

As they approached the house, Rogue was surprised at Gambit being able to use a front door, properly. Though they didn't have to wait long after he knocked as the door swung open and a chocolate whirlwind of flowing beige linen and braided tresses swept up the Cajun in a bear hug, "Remy LeBeau, knew he'd never forget his Tante Mattie!"

Gambit laughed like a kid being tickled by his grandmother, "Remy never forget his Tante Mattie."

"Ah, Tante Mattie knew you'd be here, put on da jambalaya, your favorite," she said and Rogue was able to get a good look at the woman, older but her dark, rich colored cherub face was smooth of too many wrinkles. Her plain dress was adorned with the same hexes and charms as on the home.

"Smells good, Tante Mattie," he smiled and followed the woman into the house which looked exactly as one would expect from the outside, complete with smoky incense and a few hanging chickens… hexes…. and… other things… "but can't be staying long, gonna have people after me soon, if dey aren't already."

"Now where your manners, Remy LeBeau," she knocked the hat from his head, "yah in doors, Tante Mattie taught you better dan dat."

The thief managed to catch the trilby before it hit the ground, bowing his head in shame for a moment before gesturing to Rogue, "Tante Mattie, dis is Rogue, friend of mine helping me to find out what happened with Henri."

Rogue caught the word friend and catalogued it away.

"Nasty business dat," the woman shook her head, laying a cloth on a circular wooden table, "told him, Tante Mattie told him dat an ill wind was coming and brought with it blood," she started to pull items from an old buffet, "but he was always da protector, he'd give his blood to protect da family," she chunked everything on the table, "now Remy is back to pay on dat debt."

"Aye, Tante Mattie," he said sadly.

"You always had more heart dan sense," Tante turned from where she was situating the junk, a short blade in her hand held non-threateningly, "you hide it under dat hat but Tante Mattie knows better. You be playing a very dangerous game dis time, could set dis city ablaze with a snap of your fingers, you want dat?"

"Non, Tante Mattie," he shook his head, acting like a five year old who's been admonished by his grandmother, "and I will try my best, but Remy can't let dis one go."

Tante Mattie's features turned soft and she reached up, holding his head in her hands, knife carefully positioned, "Of course yea can't child, dat's why Tante Mattie help you," and with that she cut a lock of his hair from his head.

"Merci, Tante Mattie," Gambit seemed relieved and not at all fussed about the sudden grooming.

Tante Mattie tossed the hair into a large bowl, then turned her blade towards Rogue, reaching up to take a similar lock. Instinctively Rogue backed off, both from the blade and the woman's bare hands.

"Don't fret child," Tante Mattie admonished her, "Tante Mattie know better dan to touch skin."

Rogue was stunned by the woman's knowledge of her condition since it was something Gambit hadn't mentioned to anyone since they arrived in New Orleans. The shock was enough to allow Tante Mattie to sneak in and cut a lock of her hair, specifically the end of the natural white streak parted down the side. She tossed the hair into the bowl with Gambit's and proceeded to light incense.

"Now, Tante Mattie will talk to da spirits," she started to poor something that looked suspiciously like blood, chicken Rogue hoped, over the hair and then tossed in a few other miscellaneous bits the red head didn't dare ask about.

Gambit stepped off a bit to give the woman some room and Rogue joined him, "I'm beginning to see a resemblance."

The thief smiled an honest smile, "Tante Mattie was my… nanny, I guess, she helped to raise me and Henri while mon père saw to Guild business."

"Yah take a lot after her," she found herself returning the smile, "it's sweet, even a little endearing."

He looked at her a little sideways, "Even Remy's penchant to refer to himself in da first person?"

Rogue tried to hide a grin, "Maybe."

His eyes twinkled and Rogue began to fully understand what people meant by the charm of Remy LeBeau. He was happy, amongst all the pain that was happening in his life, he found a small island of joy in seeing his Tante Mattie again. It was that kind of true happiness which she found infectious, not the snake charm that he dosed out to the unsuspecting.

Fighting the draw she felt towards the man she asked, "How did she know about my skin?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, "Tante Mattie's been around for a long time, always had a way of knowing things, past, present, future. Was a great help to my father, and his father..." he paused awkwardly as if it had just occurred to him, "and his father."

Rogue looked at the woman who was in a trance, mumbling something as she 'communed with the spirits' and she didn't look a day over 50, "No way she's that old."

"She got to be pushing a hundred by now," he seemed pretty sure, as if he was running the numbers in his head.

Extraordinarily young-looking, knew things she really shouldn't, "Could she be a mutant too?"

Gambit blinked a few times, "I'm not really sure."

"We all be mutants of one kind or another," Tante Mattie called out, coming around the table.

"Dat we are, Tante Mattie," the thief agreed, giving the woman a knowing smile.

"Da spirits, dey tell Tante Mattie dat you will find da answers you seek tonight at da Presbytere," she put her hands on the man's shoulders, "but be warned child, having da answers don't mean you'll be finding what you looking for."

"Remy understand, Tante Mattie," he smiled at her, giving her a warm hug, "merci."

"Now, you don't be thinking of running off before visiting your Tante Mattie again," she admonished him.

"Remy won't think anything of da like," Gambit replied back, laughing.

Tante placed her hands on his cheeks, "Den may da spirits go with yea, child."

He took her hands in his and held them together, nodding his thanks, gratefulness, and every other emotion even a regular person wouldn't be able to express in a moment like this. Since arriving in New Orleans Rogue had felt like an interloper and never as much so than in this moment.

"Thank you again, Tante Mattie," Gambit said softly then went to leave, "I'll be having dat jambalaya soon enough, promise."

Moving to follow the thief out, Tante Mattie caught her hand, "Child."

Why did people keep stopping her from following Gambit? "Tante Mattie?"

"We all have our pain, child, our burdens," the older woman said quietly, "and you carry yours here," she pointed at Rogue's temple, "but you think it's here," she gestured to Rogue's hands, "If you fix here," she hovered her hand over Rogue's heart… "den dis," her head… "and dis," her hands… "will fix demselves."

Rogue found herself perplexed, trying to figure out the woman's words which sounded straight forward enough but, "I don't understand."

"One day, child, you will," she smiled, but then frowned, "but dey here now, he gonna need you."

Glancing over her shoulder, the Cajun had already left and she got a sudden sinking feeling. Pulling away from Tante Mattie she ran to the door, opening it quickly and dodging outside.

Gambit stood only about fifteen feet away, perfectly still, no cards or staff at the ready. Flanked around him were at least two dozen men, some with batons or staffs, but no handguns or assault rifles. At the apex of the circle stood a tall, lithe man with graying hair and a stony face. He looked so familiar to her but she couldn't be sure if it was her own memories or the thief's she was basing that off of.

"Gambit?" she asked quietly, stepping up behind him.

"Who's da woman?" the leader said, barely giving her a glance.

"She's with me," came the reply and Rogue was definitely detecting a pattern.

"Um," she spotted Claude and the driver sitting in the boat, a guard on them too, several more of the boats lining the dock, "should I start punching people?"

"No need yet, cheri," the thief answered, "just having a friendly chat with my father."

"John-Luc," she said the word as Gambit's memories flooded to the forefront. Henri was built like his mother's side of the family, but you could see the resemblance to his father in the eyes and line of the jaw. Remy may have been adopted but there was no mistaking that the men shared the same stance, air of confidence, even the damn cane.

"Giving you da chance to leave on your own, Remy," John-Luc called out in an even timber, "we can keep dis from Marius and perhaps avoid another war."

"Non, père," the son's voice was equally matched, "not dis time. Da Guild is being threatened, Henri knew, and dat's why he's dead."

"And he didn't listen either when I told him he was walking into a snake pit," there was a growl of anger in his words, not at his son, but at himself, "both of you, bull headed and stubborn."

"And who taught us dat, huh?" Gambit smirked before turning a cold tone. "Henri wanted me to protect de family, dat's what I'm doing."

"By inciting a war?" came the harsh reply.

"If I have to," the thief said coldly. "What do you know of da Presbytere?"

"Non," the man resolved to a steely expression but she could see the pain underneath.

There was only a slight gesture from the Patriarch and the other thieves started to move in. Rogue was quicker, kicking off to swoop at the nearest attackers, barreling into them and driving them down. A man swiped a baton at her and she jumped up, spinning in the air to drop behind him and clonk him on the head.

Rouge turned and saw Gambit still standing, staring down his father, in an emotional battle more intense than the one she was fighting. No time to worry about that, she could take these guys easy and perhaps that was what he was counting on.

She bounded across the field to the other line of men who had paused when they saw her initial aerobatics. They were ready for her and dodged like the professional thieves they were. Snatching a baton from one of them she easily snapped it and pummeled two of the men with the non-broken ends, knocking them out, not trying to cause any permanent damage to any of Gambit's 'family'.

Another lunged behind her and she slipped to the side, grabbing his arms and using her strength to toss him away. She hadn't really planned what direction but the man flew straight at the Patriarch who skillfully and suavely dodged the projectile by stepping to the side at last second.

"Enough," John-Luc shouted and the few thieves remaining upright stopped their approach.

"You're not sending me away dis time," Gambit told his father, heaps of emotion under the surface.

"I told Henri dis would take care of itself, but I was wrong… about so many things." The elder LeBeau stared at the younger and it became obvious to Rogue that the man loved his son, and his son loved him in return, but there was too much baggage between them to make this anything more than bittersweet. Eventually John-Luc was the one to give in, a tired look falling upon his face, "I do hope you know what you're doing, Remy."

"I was always da best at getting out of a pinch," the mutant gave a half laugh.

"Yes," his father said slowly, "when not getting you and Henri into dem," another slight gesture and the thieves picked up their fallen comrades and started to head back to the boats.

"Père," LeBeau's voice finally broke, only a touch, "all da same, good to see you again."

"As to see you, Remy," John-Luc answered with sad eyes before composing himself, "All I know of da Presbytere is dat tonight dere will be a rather large fundraiser, Guild's been paid not to put in an appearance," he said the last words with a smirk, appearance obviously being code for not robbing the place blind.

"Well," Gambit smirked back, "good thing I'm not guilded."

The last of the thieves were on the boats, a few already backing away from the dock, John-Luc nodded to his boy and turned to leave. The Patriarch paused as his eyes landed on Rogue, giving her a once over. "Always did favor a woman who could kick your ass, Remy."

Rogue rolled her eyes, nothing was going on between her and Gambit. Hell, other than some questionable comments made in a flirtatious manner he'd actually been the perfect gentleman.

Again… she really needed to stop thinking about these things, they didn't mean anything. Gambit was playing her, it was all part of whatever long-con he had going.

For a man of his age John-Luc easily hoped into the boat, the driver backing off and speeding away across the water. Gambit didn't move until they were all well out of sight and then it almost looked as if his shoulders had shrunk and his body wanted to collapse. Whatever happened, whatever kept being referred to, obviously left a horrible scar on all involved… and Rogue knew the answers she sought where in the memories she dared not touch, questions she couldn't bring herself to ask.

The two mutants walked towards the dock and met up, Rogue putting her hands on her hips, "Making me do all tha heavy lifting?"

He grinned at her, "Wouldn't want to insult you."

She was saved having to come up with a retort by Claude joining them on the dock, "Well, _dat_ was interesting."

"Wasn't it just?" Gambit said with a smirk. "Like he wasn't even trying."

Glancing between the two men, "I missed something…"

"John-Luc wants da know who killed Henri as much as da rest of us," Claude explained, "probably moreso."

"But he needs a fallback position," Gambit added, not a bit of malice in his voice, "he can't support me in case I fail, still has da Guild to think about."

"Like father, like son," Rogue almost wanted to laugh, seemed Gambit's tendency to play big and far from safe was as much taught as it was genetic. "Okay, so we go ta this… Presbytere?"

"A museum in da French Quarter," Claude rubbed his chin, "and the fundraiser, probably da one to help fund our historical landmarks, dey have one every year during Mardi Gras, usually do it right and proper in da Spirit of da Carnival."

"Tante Mattie said 'tonight'," Rogue started to run scenarios through her head, "we could use tha crowds to our advantage, sneak in through tha roof."

Gambit made a somewhat agreeable noise, then he grinned, "I was thinking we use da front door."

"What," she tilted her head, "after tha party?"

That grin got wider, "During da party."

"During tha party?" If they crashed a party then they would have to look like they were supposed to be there… and if it's a Mardi Gras-style fancy fundraising party… "We go in as waiters then."

The thief made a tsk noise, "Where's your sense of style, cheri?"

If not the wait-staff…

Rogue's eyes narrowed at the Cajun, "Oh no, Gambit, yah not getting me into a dress."

"Well, I certainly can't wear it," he teased, grinning too broadly for her liking. "I don't have da legs for it but I'm thinking you certainly do."

Rogue was ready to punch the man when Claude interjected, "If da Guild has been asked to stay away den dat means something will be going down during da party, a hand-off, pay-off, all manner of things, best way to find out would to be at da center. If this was a job, I'd go in as a waiter."

"No self-respecting thief would go in as a guest," Gambit was a little too pleased with himself, "which is why that's exactly what we're going to do."

As much as she wanted to argue, doing the unexpected had worked for them so far.

"Relax, cheri," Gambit dropped some of the charm from his grin, "you don't have to come if you don't want to."

That stopped her for a second, "Really?" Rogue figured he'd try a bit harder to get her into something a bit more revealing than her usual combat-ready fare.

"Of course," and there it was, "I'd be much obliged if you came to watch my back," or not.

She crossed her arms, "Sure you won't be watching _mine_?" There was enough lit on the last word to get her point across that she was referring to more than her back.

"Only if da lady permits," his grin was back full force.

Rolling her eyes, the old adage came to mind, 'in for a penny, in for a pound', "Well, someone needs to protect tha innocent women there from tha likes of you."

"Bon," Gambit laughed, brining his hands together, "and here I thought I'd have to bribe you," he flicked his wrist and between two fingers was the worn King of Hearts she knew she still had on her person that morning.

"Sugah," she said with a completely straight face, "I do believe I'll be killing you before this is all over."

"Looking forward to it," Gambit chuckled, turning his back to her as he headed towards the boat, a deliberate show of how much he believed her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading! Now for some backstory!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

_Thieves' Guild House_

Rogue sat at a dressing table in Mercy's room, putting her hair up into a simple but elegant wrap-around bun. Mercy offered to have one of the girls do something more fancy for her but there was no point in risking accidental skin contact, not that she told Mercy that, she simply refused. The woman found it odd and didn't try to hide it, especially when Rogue went through every outfit of her size trying to find the one which covered the most skin… why was everything sleeveless, backless or really darn short?

Staring at herself in the mirror, her face dusted with makeup, hair up, and a shiny hunter green dress, she almost looked normal… she looked nothing like herself.

A swoop neckline, not too deep, teased the front as the back plunged to mid-length, just above the waist with a small slit up to her knees so she could walk. Overall, the dress was very flattering with no sleeves, just thick straps to keep everything from falling out.

For a very short moment in the quite of the bedroom Rogue dared to be Anna Marie again… a woman without a curse.

If only for a moment.

The image in the mirror changed, blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at her accusingly.

Pain shot through her temples again and she rested her head in her hands as she road it out. It was getting worse, the episodes coming closer together and becoming harder to press down. Why now? After eight years of carrying around Danvers psyche why now was she finding herself in a knock-down drag-out fight over her conscious?

"I think dese will do," Mercy came into the room with a bundle of gold fabric in her hands, Rogue shot her head up, trying to pretend she couldn't see Danvers still screaming at her from the mirror. "Gold will go great with da dress but clash with your hair, couldn't find matching in silver."

"It'll do fine, thank you," she smiled and pointed to the table for the woman to lay down the long gloves, shawl and clutch. Rogue tried to busy herself with a last dash of powder foundation, pressing the voices into the abyss.

"Don't know why you'd want to cover, you got beautiful skin, a bit pale, but flawless," the thief remarked and Rogue's first thought was 'because it never sees the light of day'. Mercy then pulled a box from her back pocket, "Oh, got icing for da cake." Opening the case she saw a set of earrings and a simple but beautiful necklace inside. "Diamonds go with everything."

Rogue had to chuckle, "Somehow I doubt yah paid for those."

"I have a receipt," she laid the open box down, "okay, I can _produce_ a receipt," she grinned and pulled the necklace up, "da latch can be tricky, let me get it for you."

Mercy leaned over and Rogue instinctively wanted to bat the woman away but her arms and hands were bare as were Mercy's since she was wearing a sleeveless blouse. In a last second move to keep the woman from touching her, Rogue darted sideways, sliding off the chair due to the soft fabric. Unable to get her legs under her because of the slink of the dress she fell to the floor, forgetting for the moment she could fly she was so focused on not making contact.

"Rogue?" the look on Mercy's face was of complete confusion, but Southern manners kicked in, "Let me help you up."

"No!" she shouted at the woman more loudly than she would have liked, saying more quietly, "I got it," using her flying ability to rise up and straighten out.

The thief studied her before saying, "Take this however you want but dere is something wrong in your head, fille."

"Apparently I carry my burden there," she mumbled, Tante Mattie's words coming back to her.

"Excusez?" Mercy raised an eyebrow at her and when Rogue waved her off she said, "You're supposed to be watching Remy's back, and right now you're doing little to instill me with confidence."

"Not my problem," Rogue crossed her arms, partly to show her defiance but mostly because she was feeling naked without her gloves.

"Everything dealing with dis Guild is my problem," the woman gave a hard expression of determination that made the mutant pause. "Now, tell me, why do you act like everyone is a gator about to take your hand?"

"Or what?" she verbally lashed out, her head hurting, feeling exposed, not at her best, "Yah think yah could stop me?"

Mercy's eyes narrowed, "Don't underestimate me. Remy wasn't da only LeBeau who favored a strong woman who could handle herself."

"Oh, for tha love of—" she literally screamed in frustration, "there is _nothing_ going on between me and Gambit, nothing will _ever_ be going on between us…" her voice broke, emotions that she always tried to keep buried deep sneaking up and stabbing her right under the rib cage, "even if I wanted it… nothing ever could…"

The thief gave her the same confused look from before, but perhaps with a touch of empathy. "I don't understand."

Rogue dropped her crossed arms to stare at her hands, her nails short but neatly trimmed so they didn't snag on her gloves. They weren't painted, never manicured, she never saw the point to it, no one saw them. Her skin though, soft and free of any rough patches or calluses, and so very pale.

Tante Mattie was mad… nothing could fix this.

"Gambit," she said quietly, "he told yah about my flight and strength… but he didn't tell yah how I got them."

"You're a mutant," Mercy said the statement like it was the catch-all answer.

"That's tha why, but not tha how," Rogue couldn't believe she was about to tell an almost total stranger the truth, the whole truth, but since her mother died she hadn't really had anyone to talk to. As much as she cared for her Brotherhood brothers, she couldn't share this with them. Now, with everything going on in her head, Danvers trying to get out and Gambit trying to get in, Rogue needed to get the words off her chest, to say them out loud lest she forget them, and this thief… "They say there is honor among thieves, can I trust yah not ta repeat any of this?"

The blonde nodded with determination, "Yes, thief's honor."

Gambit had told her that you could trust the word of a great thief, and if Mercy was Matriarch of a whole Guild House then she had to be a great thief, good simply wouldn't cut it. She was also the beloved of Henri, and from what she knew of the man through what memories she had, he wouldn't have settled for anything less than honorable in the love of his life.

"When I was twelve, I kissed a boy," Rogue started from the beginning, flood gates opening up and experience telling her to just ride out the deluge, "his name was Cody, he was thirteen, my best friend, and it was a school yard dare."

Mercy listened quietly, attentively… sympathetically.

"When our skin touched," she could remember the moment more clear than any other event in her life, "my mutant abilities triggered for tha first time. Cody's… essence… poured into me. I could remember every baseball stat for tha Bulldogs, that I failed tha pop quiz, and that I'd rather be kissed by Susie Bendal… but those weren't my thoughts, not my memories."

"You… absorbed him?" and there was that familiar look, the one that crossed every person's face, well, except Gambit's, another troublesome thought that she pushed aside. But to Mercy's kindness, she recovered faster than most, "Was it just his thoughts, or his actual conscious?"

"Mostly tha former, but too much of tha latter," she shrugged, she hated putting her power into more than one word. "I can't control it, I touch someone and I get thoughts, usually whatever is handy, but I can search for specific ones if I'm quick enough. The drain knocks tha person out and tha longer I hold contact tha more I take and I risk putting them into a coma… I learned this because Cody… he's never woken up…" she failed to fight back every tear, one traitor escaping to slide down her cheek, "and I still know every stat for tha Bulldogs."

"I'm so sorry," came the woman's whispered words, an echoing declaration made by the few who knew the whole story.

Rogue let the woman have her hollow statement, composing herself, "With mutants I can touch them a little longer, not much though, their power acts as a buffer of sorts. I gain their ability, whatever they can do, I can do… for a time. Like with tha memories, the longer I hold on, the longer I have tha power. Hold on long enough… and… well…"

It only took the thief a second to realize what she was saying, "Da flight, strength… you… gained dem?"

"Gained, such a polite word," she gave a broken laugh, "I stole them. Took them from tha woman who murdered my mother. She's now in a coma herself, near enough to death, possibly worse." Rogue took a long deep breath, "I thought that's what I wanted when I found her, turns out, I was wrong. I use these powers because they are just so… darn… handy to have…" her voice turned icey, "and they remind me, remind me of what went wrong and why it can _never_ happen again."

Mercy's expression changed, first realization of just how much experience Rogue had this little matter called revenge, then anger at helping Gambit walk the same path, then censure, "You said da road doesn't end."

"No," Rogue replied quietly, "just keeps on going…"

"Please," the thief's words were soft but pleading, "speak to Remy, tell him this, anything, get him to stop seeking revenge. I… I can't do it myself…" her eyes went downcast, "because I'm right dere beside him."

Rogue nearly panicked at the thought of telling the Cajun any of her secrets, hell, she wasn't even sure why she was telling them to Mercy except for the fact that saying the words gave her strength over them. "I can try," she eventually acquiesced, "but I doubt he'll listen."

"No, he will," she seemed certain, "You've earned his respect. Dat's at least enough to make him listen."

"A man can listen to words," Rogue shrugged, "don't mean he has ta do anything with them."

"Well," the thief offered a small smile, "at least dey will be rattling around in that brain of his."

"Might shake some sense loose?" she couldn't help a small chuckle.

"Would be nice," Mercy smiled a little broader, but then it fell. "Wait, what you said before, nothing could happen between you and him… because of your powers you can't… be… with anyone."

"Ugh," Rogue rolled her eyes, something else breaking inside, "that's always the first thing people think about, never mind the fact that I have ta be warm, all tha time. That I can't hug people without making a tactical plan. Forget club dancing, yah know," she waved her hands back and forth, "me and flailing arms don't mix. I can't even feel the gentle touch of a friend giving sympathy…" her voice trembled before she got angry, "People take tha tactile sense for granted, but for me it's a luxury. Yet they figure out what I can do and it's always 'yah can't have sex'. There is so much more ta this world than that."

Her rant over, Mercy stood a bit stunned, "I… I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"No, it's okay," she waved the woman off, rubbing her forehead, the voices getting riled, "I have a headache and I'm not too keen about tonight… I needed to vent. I should be tha one apologizing."

"No, you shouldn't," the thief said softly. "You just seem to cope pretty well, the way you act around Remy. I never would have guessed about your… condition."

"Yeah," Rogue gave a tired laugh, "It's my process, you see, they always get bored. First they think it's a challenge but there is no prize to win. The letches I get rid of pretty quickly. The decent ones, well, I may have a little fun but I don't make any bones about my mutation or lead them on… telling them to stop doesn't do any good either. So I wait it out and if tha guy is nice enough, honest enough, then maybe we can become good friends, because yah can never have too many of those."

Mercy smirked, "You think Remy is honest and nice?"

"Well… he's not been a letch," she ended up shaking her head at the memories of the past few days, "but honestly, that man confounds me. When this is all over, if I haven't killed him, I'll apply for sainthood."

The blonde chuckled, "He does have dat way with people," then she gave Rogue a once over, "and I'm in awe of how you handle your ability so well. I don't think I could."

"What choice do I have?" Rogue splayed her hands wide, "This is who I am, who I will always be. My mother would say 'Mutant and Proud'," she let her arms fall to her side, "besides, it's better than tha alternative. I think about my condition too much and what yah just saw would be me, every hour of every day, and I can't be that person… not if I want ta stay sane."

"Now that I do understand," Mercy gave her a sad smile and Rogue could see the pain of her husband's death in it. She mourned him, of course she did, but dwelling on it would drive her farther onto the path she was trying to get off of.

"You almost ready in dere?" a voice called from the closed door, sounded like Claude.

"Give us a couple more minutes," Mercy called back, realizing that the diamond necklace was still in her hand. "You still okay to go?"

"Yeah," she rubbed her left arm, still feeling a bit naked, "now and again I need ta let it out just so it don't end up rotting tha insides."

"I'm truly sorry about your mother, but I'm glad I could help today," the thief gave her a sympathetic smile, "now, let's get you ready for da party."

A few minutes later and Rogue had the long gloves on with the shawl draped around her neck to cover the rest. Mercy made sure it dropped to completely cover the back. Of course, this covered the beautiful necklace so she dug up a bracelet to complete the effect. Putting on a pair of gloves, Mercy did a little tweaking to the hair to make it appear more sophisticated. Rogue had to look like she belonged among the wealthy and powerful at the fundraiser…

"You'll turn heads," Mercy said, pleased with the outcome.

Rogue raised an eyebrow, "Aren't thieves supposed to blend in?"

"Are you kidding," she grinned, "you're da distraction. No one will notice Remy with you by his side."

"Except tha ladies," the mutant rolled her eyes.

Mercy took her by the arm and lead her towards the doorway, "You'll be da envy of da party, Rogue."

Walking out of the bedroom into the sitting area, Gambit was standing with his back to her, looking at something the red headed man from before was showing him, a file it looked like. Claude, dressed as a chauffeur, and a kid, maybe seventeen, stood in the group as well. At the noise of their entrance, the red head put the file in his jacket and all eyes turned towards them.

Well, the Cajun cleaned up pretty nice wearing a standard black tux, though with a bit of striping on the edges. He shaved and combed back his hair, this making him look more like his father in style than anything. No cane, probably a bit of a giveaway, though she had no doubt there was at least three decks of cards on his person, somewhere.

Examining his transformation she found that she liked him the other way, rough and rugged… not because it was a 'bad boy' image but because he looked about as comfortable in his refinery as she did in hers.

All four men did their version of checking her out, some more subtle than others.

"First one ta say something," Rogue said sweetly, "gets ta find out what it's like to be hit by a girl who can bench press a car."

The three men either gulped or swallowed hard. A smile curled on Gambit's lip, "Vous avez l'air absolument magnifique, Rogue."

"I'd hurt you," she crossed her arms, "but yah'd enjoy it too much."

That gained a hearty chuckle from the thief who then checked his watch, "About time to go."

"What's tha plan on getting in?" she asked, assuming that if this was a fundraiser then it would be invitation only or the tickets were costly. If it was paid entrance, would they be able to buy in at last minute?

"Fill you in on da way," Gambit offered his arm.

Rogue paused but then sighed, she needed to let him get it out of his system. It was her fault she egged him on as much as she did and she made a promise to herself to make a conscious effort to stop any more flirting with him… why she started to in the first place must have come from madness anyway.

Taking the arm, she also accepted a dark green clutch Mercy handed over. The two then walked down the steps towards the front door with Claude, at least half a dozen faces staring at them from every door way. Again, she wasn't comfortable being at the center of the storm that was Remy LeBeau and was thankful that he attempted nothing, not even playful banter, in full view of everyone. Maybe he was focused on the mission, maybe he figured out her trepidation and was being considerate… she wasn't sure which answer she preferred.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading! To be honest, I pretty much wrote the fic around this chapter, which also explains why it's the longest. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>

_French Quarter_

It was about seven-thirty, the sun already down and the city brightly lit as they sped by in a limo. Tomorrow was Mardi Gras Day, Fat Tuesday, the last day before lent, but already crowds were out and about, sharing in the Spirit of the Carnival.

"Okay," Claude called from the driver's seat, "we should time dis just right and pull in before Milton Fuller's limo."

"Who's Milton Fuller?" sometimes Rogue felt stupid having to ask so many questions but it was better than going in blind. To Gambit's credit, he never looked down on her for it.

"Big industry man," the thief told her, "mostly into ship building for da Navy, family's been around a long time."

"And what do we want with him?" she could think of a few ideas, most of which weren't exactly legal.

"We don't want him," Gambit grinned, "we want his invitations."

"Ah," that had been one of the options, "a man like Fuller won't be questioned if he 'forgot' his invites so no one will notice if we borrow them."

"Got it in one, cheri," he nodded approvingly.

"Yah know," she frowned, just a bit fed up with the thief for an entirely different reason than the usual, "I may not have grown up in a fancy Guild House, but I do know a thing or two."

The Cajun regarded her for a moment, his grin dropping into a soft smile before he said quietly, "Yeah, you do."

"Perfect," Claude sounded pleased with himself as he angled the limo against the curb, "he's pulling in behind us."

Rogue adjusted her shawl as Claude jumped out to come around to the door. Glancing over at the thief she decided on something. "Tell you what, Gambit, you sit this one out, I'll get us into tha party."

Gambit raised one eyebrow and smirked, "If da lady insists?"

"Oh," she borrowed his grin, "she insists."

The thief chuckled, slipping out the door as Claude opened it. Rogue scooted over, carefully swinging her legs out onto the curb. Gambit offered his hand and she took it like the polite, respectable, lady she was pretending to be. As she stood she paused to adjust her shawl again and check the contents of her bag, all while watching for Fuller in her peripheral.

Milton Fuller, older gentleman with a wife about two decades younger than him, maybe it was a girlfriend… no, wife, can tell by the possessive grip she had on his arm. This was Fuller's third wife, easy. One bodyguard, hired for the night, not a standing contract, the man just there to get a paycheck and hopefully not have to do anything. Would say a small Glock in his shoulder-holster, probably a subcompact 26, the man wasn't overcompensating for anything. The fourth in the party, a personal assistant, long time employed, happy where he was, no ambition but knows how to keep a tidy appointment book by the pager and PDA on his belt and the shine on his shoes.

She'd have one go at this to get the invitations… she needed to make it count.

As they got closer Rogue finished primping and started to walk with Gambit towards the entrance. She really hated heels but they did come in handy from time to time.

"Ouff," she stumbled, falling away from the thief who looked like he had to literally stop his quick reflexes from grabbing her to keep her from ending up on the ground.

"Ah!" the assistant shouted as she ploughed her back into him, making sure to keep her head forward and the shawl tightly wrapped.

"Oh, so sorry!" Rogue let out in a high pitched 'dumb blonde' voice, complete with Cajun dialect. Getting her feet under her she turned around to face the man. "Dese are new shoes," she lamented, not in the left side pockets, "I couldn't resist dem!" ah, right side, perfect. No way a man like Fuller would carry his own invites when he had perfectly good men hired to do such things for him.

There were four but she only needed two. Rogue slid the invites behind her back and Gambit was right behind her, expertly sliding them into his jacket as he took her by the arm, "Are you alright, mon cher?"

"Oui," she put on her best embarrassed face and let herself be drug away from the exasperated assistant.

The two headed toward the entrance, Fuller having ignored the whole situation and instead found an older gentleman to talk about some golf club or another. As they approached the doors, security checking invites, Gambit pulled the stolen ones from his jacket, "Not bad, cheri."

"Simple is best," she grinned at him, then smirked.

He returned the grin until he examined the invites, "Dey personalized."

"What?" she looked at them as he tilted them in her direction and sure thing, some random name, Dillon Leflore, was embossed on it, probably the assistant, and a William Johnston, the guard likely, on the other. "Well, guess I'll be improvising then. Yah my 'escort'."

Snatching the thick paper from his hand, she took the lead as they approached the man checking invites. As she drew closer she put on her best smile, getting a little too close to the man for comfort. He was young, not too shabby looking, probably a paid intern by the style and price of his suit.

"Getting a little cold out here," she said in a low voice, rubbing one hand down her arm just a tad bit suggestively, subtle always worked better, "don't dey have something better for you do to do inside where it's warm?"

"Uh," he was speechless, she could work with that.

"Tell you what," she slid the invites into the pile he had in his hands, taking the opportunity to get so close he could feel the heat of her body, it made her uncomfortable but her desire to show up Gambit won out, "I'm already bored of mine," she threw a glance at the thief but the door greeter never took his eyes off of her, "so why don't you find me later and see if you can entertain me, no?"

"Yeah, sure," he got a stupid grin on his face.

"Looking forward to it," she winked and slinked on by, the man never bothering to look at the invites.

"Um, sir," he stopped Gambit as he attempted to follow.

"I'm with her," she heard the thief say.

An evil grin fell on her face and Rogue called over her shoulder, "He's with me."

The doorman let the mutant through with only a slight pause then turned to the next person waiting. Gambit came up beside her and took her arm. "Well done, petite, didn't know you had it in you."

"But are you impressed?" she asked, accepting a dark green Mardi Gras mask which only covered from the nose up from a lady working a table just inside the door.

Gambit was given a similar black one, pulling it over his head before saying, "Maybe."

She took the opportunity of putting her own mask on to grimace, she was doing it again, flirting with the Cajun when she said she wouldn't. The man was so good at brining out some really bad habits in her…

Slipping his arm through hers again, the two mutants walked into the main foyer of the museum. The building was originally built to hold monks though it never did, and was instead used for a multitude of purposes including as a town hall in its long history. There was a large area on the first floor, perfect size to hold a gathering of ritzy individuals all decked out in their refinery, feathered Mardi Gras masks on their heads. The thieves blended in just fine.

Rogue scanned the room, looking for anything out of place, any signs of shady dealings either on the ground floor or the wrap around balcony on the second. Nothing immediately came to her attention but it was early yet.

A waiter came by with a tray and presented them a sampling, Gambit grabbing two, "Oh, shrimp," he offered her one of the crackers covered in some kind of pâté with a shrimp sticking out on top, "bet dey fresh from da Gulf."

She held her hand up politely refused, "No thank you, I'm allergic ta shell fish."

Even the mask couldn't cover his surprised look, "You are?"

"Yeah…" suddenly she wasn't sure, hadn't she had crab a few months back when her and Pyro were up in Maine on another mission for Magento? "Wait…" panic started to rise in her but she clamped it down, clearing the voices out of her head, she had absorbed many who were allergic and for some reason a stray thought wormed its way into her head that she was allergic too. "No, I…"

Feeling somewhere between embarrassed and terrified she walked away from the thief and straight to the woman with the wine flutes on her tray. Taking a glass she downed it in one gulp, she didn't like drinking heavily, it dulled the senses, but sometimes she needed things a little less sharp up there.

"You okay, Rogue?" Gambit came up beside her, a weird tint to his voice.

"Don't worry," she took a deep breath and turned towards him, "I got your back."

"Dat's not what I'm asking, petite," he said but in an effort not to look at the Cajun she found something more interesting.

"Take my arm," she said quickly and while he hesitated he did so, causing himself to turn around and face the same direction she was, "see what I see?"

"Bag man," didn't take the thief long to spot the man standing at the bottom of the stairs.

A bag man was any person who was a go-between for two groups, usually a criminal outfit and a non-criminal group on the take, such as the mafia and police. The bag man was typically a neutral party, getting a cut in order to facilitate the hand-off without either groups having to meet face to face. Jacob was basically a high-dollar bag man but this guy was local and probably cheap judging by his shoes.

"Whatever he's waiting on," Rogue watched as the man checked his wrist and glanced to the top of the stairs, "he'll be taking it up ta tha second floor."

"Got to be at least two dozen places he could go," Gambit started to move in order not to look suspicious as they stared at the bag man, "need a better view."

Rogue glanced around, checking the angles, and only the center of the room would give them a three-sixty of the second floor. Of course, the middle of the room was reserved for the dance floor, already a few couples taking advantage of the soft music. "Care for a dance?" she asked as if she was ordering at a drive thru.

"Thought you'd never ask," he smiled broadly, slipping his arm down to take her hand, leading her like a proper gentleman to the dance floor.

"Watch your hands," she whispered, a double meaning of 'don't touch the exposed back' and 'don't touch anything else you shouldn't' heavy in the words.

He placed her right hand on his shoulder then dropped his to place both hands on her hips, under the exposed area of her back and a respectable distance from her rear. She placed her left hand on his other shoulder and started in on the slow jazzy beat that was playing. The song made it easy to simply spin in place and check all the rooms and hallways the bag man could possibly take.

The music changed, still slow so they didn't have to change up their dance, but a thought popped into her head, "They start up tha tango, yah _do not_ get any bright ideas."

A mischievous grin formed on his lips and in one swift movement he took her hand and twirled her away from him. When he brought her back in, he did so in a way that her back was to him and she was flush up against his body, his breath on her neck. He was warm, solid, and so damn close she didn't know if she should be terrified or terribly excited. Before she could think much more on the subject of his powerful build and death wish he spun her out again and returned her to the original position of face to face.

Rogue scowled at him but the effect may have been ruined by the mask.

"We can't dance all night, as much as dat pains me to admit," he frowned and looked over at the bag man, "let's hope da trade off is soon."

She considered the possibilities, trying to ignore the sudden flip-flopping in her stomach, "I could touch him, just a brush, should only make him dizzy, find out who he's waiting for, where he's going?"

"Non, cheri," he said softly, "we'll wait, find where he goes, and then I'll do what I do best."

"Be incredibly annoying and exasperating?" she mumbled.

Gambit paused, then said, "Okay, what I do second best."

Rogue couldn't help herself, she started to laugh at the deadpan words. He chuckled and they swayed softly to the music, it was kinda nice actually. Doing what they did for a living meant having a certain level of patience, be it hiding in a vent or a stakeout in a car. This was better than both.

As they danced and she considered all the possibilities of who the bag man was, what kind of hand-off might be taking place, etc, she came to a startling realization.

"Gambit," she said quietly. "Why have yah never asked me to use my powers?"

"Of course I have," he said like she was being silly, "plenty of times."

"Flight and strength, yeah," she corrected him, "but not my absorption ability."

The thief made a 'huh'-like sound, as if he was really thinking it over, "Sure I did, in da alley."

"True," she ran the moment back through her mind, "but yah didn't really ask, just got me into a position where I'd use them and changed tha how."

"I needed you to understand, cheri," he said with a frown on his face, "and for dat, I am sorry."

"Yah sorry?" her brow knitted in confusion she doubted the man could see. Gambit didn't seem like the kind to apologize for anything… at least not so directly.

"I didn't realize how crowded it must be up dere," the thief said sadly, but without pity, she would have definitely hurt him if she ever heard such an emotion in his voice, she wouldn't have it, not from him, "or how much you hated using your powers."

Her jaw gapped just a bit before she got defensive, speaking in a harsh whisper, "I don't hate using my powers."

"Da eyes," Gambit replied simply, not phased, "dey tell da whole story, Rogue, maybe even da one's you don't want to read yourself."

"I'm not a keypad," she bit back, "yah can't just read me like a book."

He tilted his head down so she could see his eyes through the slits in the mask, "Time leaves wear on all things, cheri. By my estimate, you decided a long time ago your mutation was a curse and have slipped into da old routine of using your powers simply because dats what everyone expects of you."

Rogue could have just strangled him, right there in the middle of the party, used her strength to snap his neck… because the snake thief hit it on the head without even trying, voicing emotions she thought she buried long ago. Her hands clenched, pulling at the fabric of his suit, and she trembled with anger. Gambit paused in the dance, holding her firm but not tight, letting the sudden spike in her blood run its course.

Eventually she gave in, not to the anger but to the pain, "I am cursed."

"Do you really believe dat, cheri?" his voice was quiet, serene even, the opposite of how she felt.

"Kinda hard not ta when even my own poppa thought I was some kind of monster," Rogue said without thinking, assaulted by memories stolen from her father after he hit her for the… well, she lost count, but that was the last time.

"Dat why you ran away, petite?" Gambit said softly and she glanced up at him quizzically, how could he know? "I was adopted and grew up in a house of thieves, I can spot a runaway soul when I see one."

Rogue bowed her head, not wanting to look at him when she admitted, "When I got my powers, an… accident happened. Poppa wasn't happy, he was never happy, and always drunk. The punch he threw at me left more than a bruise, I saw what he felt about me," she closed her eyes, willing away the pain, almost mortified she was telling him all this but the flood gates had long been opened. "Felt his anger that momma ran away when I was young leaving him ta have ta take care of his worthless child. Felt his fear that I was some kind of life-sucking monster given ta him as punishment by God. That's why I ran away," but there was a bright moment. "Mystique found me, adopted me, showed me I wasn't alone and how to accept what I am."

Unable to get past the lump in her throat, the whole day being an emotional rollercoaster, she sagged a bit, trying to quite the voices and focus on the mission…

"I know how you feel, Rogue," the thief said, his words only slightly less broken hearted than hers. "You don't think my momma looked into dese baby-reds and thought to herself dat she'd given birth to da devil's own?" she peered up at him, seeing just a shade of pain sneaking through. "I was abandoned at da hospital den and dere. John-Luc was da only one brave enough to take me in, treated me a like human being, gave me a family to be a part of."

He truly did know how she felt… "We're not monsters."

"No we are not, cheri," he agreed quietly.

"We're tha next step," the words came easily to her having heard them a thousand times plus, "we're better, tha future."

Gambit let out a tired laugh, "Sounds like Magneto's party line."

"I forget," she was emotionally exhausted, not really caring at this point, "yah one of Xavier's lackeys."

"Lackey?" he chuckled lightly, "Chuck isn't a bad guy, I'll give him a hand from time to time, but if you ask me, him and ol' metal head are six-of-one and half-dozen-of-da-other. Dey see a different side of da same coin, but you know what, petite, dey both got it wrong."

That threw her, "Got it wrong?"

Gambit started up the dance again, swaying off to the left, "Dey say I have da devil's eyes, dat's what earned me da nickname, _Le Diable Blanc_, da White Devil, but petite, I've met da devil, and his eyes are da same as da next man's."

"Now there's a conversation I'd liked to have heard," she tried to imagine the devil attempting to go one-on-one against Remy LeBeau, she couldn't imagine it went well for the devil.

A smirked tried to form in the corner of his mouth, "Point is cheri, he was just a man, a man who made a choice to be da villain. Mutant or no, everyone is given dat choice, dey have to decide if dey are going to be da hero… or da villain… da warrior… or da weapon… da angel… or da devil… or maybe something else entirely."

"But…" she stared into his eyes, entrapped by his voice but his words counter to everything she was taught, but at the same time right on line, everyone had a choice, but had all the options been kept from her? "We are special, we have powers, it's our right… our duty… ta use them towards a better future."

"Do we?" he smiled sadly at her, "What about da beautiful singer who decides not to go into music? Or da mathematical genius who would rather be an artist, though he's not very good? Dey get da choice to make dere own future, same as us, to use their gifts, or not, to be da champion, or not," he moved in a little closer, voice going lower, "So what if our gifts are not da usual fare, we're still human beings like dem, we get da same choices. You say your mutation is a curse, what about da millions of deaf or blind who have learned to live with deir disability? Would you say dat you're worse off den dem? Is one sense so much more important dan another?"

"I can kill with my touch," she hissed back, getting defensive because his words made her feel foolish.

"You don't think a blind or deaf person couldn't kill if dey put dere mind to it?" he didn't rise to her anger, his voice soft and close as their masks brushed against each other, "You have limitations cheri, but dat doesn't have to limit what you can do."

There was a strange seduction to his words and it lulled her, her breathing becoming shallow. Was he seriously suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Desperately she struggled against the unfamiliar tug in her gut, her eyes focusing on his lips, remembering how they had felt…

What was this man doing to her?

Forcing herself to look away she attempted some way to distance herself emotionally and anger was always good for that. "We are nature's evolution," she refused to acknowledge his last statement.

"Yeah," Gambit shrugged, pulling away a little, "maybe, I've heard stories of mutants going back a long time, met some dat's been around longer dan humanly possible, like Tante Mattie. I'd argue dat we've always been here, just now with da world getting smaller we're finally sitting up and taking notice, finding each other."

Again, he stumped her, having also heard stories… Was it possible the myths of the ages were nothing more than ancient people trying to understand those with special abilities like theirs?

"Chuck and Erik," the Cajun continued, "well, Chuck says we should live together in peace, Erik thinks we should take our place as da superior beings. Both of dem are looking at dis as 'us versus dem', but I don't see it dat way. It's just… us… we all be mutants of some form or another."

"But what if it comes down ta that," she asked quietly, trying to avoid his eyes so he couldn't see into hers and the effect his words were having on her, "us verus them?"

"Cross dat bridge," he smiled softly at her. "You called me a cliché before, I reckon I probably am, but it's because I want to be dis person. Not a hero, not a monster, just a thief, and a mighty stylish one at dat," he grinned before looking at her thoughtfully, "You keep dat accent though you could have done away with it because you want to be dat Southern, country girl… but everything else, is dis who you want to be, choose to be?"

"We all have a choice," she whispered quietly, bowing her head, trying to reconcile the man's words with what her mother taught her, "to be the hunted or the hunter… to be afraid or to be mutant and proud…"

"Non," using the back of his hand which was covered by his sleeve he tilted her head up to look at him, "just proud."

Staring deeply into the red eyes of the Cajun she finally saw what everyone was talking about, she could lose herself in them, drown without a care in the world. Her breath left her lungs and a weight hung heavy in her stomach, this man, this thief, blew open her world, turning it upside down and inside out… yet, her feet felt firmly planted on solid ground, ready for what may come next.

His head flicked to the side, just an inch but enough to break contact, "Dat's my cue."

Rogue managed to follow his eye line to see the bag man taking a thick briefcase from some guy, her brain too muddled to properly assess him but he screamed 'cop' to her. The bag man walked up the steps and about thirty feet down the left side he disappeared into another hallway.

Again, like a proper gentleman, Gambit led her from the dance floor, kissing her gloved hand, "When I need you, petite, you'll know."

She watched him leave, standing in a daze, trying to quell the emotions she thought she long locked away but her heart felt heavy with them now. Thankfully, the voices were strangely quiet, letting her process what just happened.

The answer was simple.

Gambit happened…


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **So glad y'all liked the last chapter and my take on the mutant issue and of course the Romy action! :D It's a direct nod to the Erik/Raven bedroom scene in X:FC. Now we get some Gambit POV! Yeah, it pretty much goes downhill from here… hahaha, mine is an evil laugh! /Wash

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

_The Presbytere_

Remy made it to the bottom of the stairs, using a beautiful woman in a strapless red dress as a segway to make his approach natural looking… but as much as he pulled off the flirt, his heart just wasn't in it.

What was it about returning to New Orleans? Seeing the family again, the old haunts, everything had changed yet the scars were still there. Old memories surfaced and a pain he thought long dulled began to sharpen on the strings of his heart.

He missed her, his Bella, and he always would… coming back only reminded him of this fact.

He thought he had made peace with her death… maybe that wasn't in the cards.

And now his brother was gone, the last decent man on God's green Earth and one hell of a thief. He was doing this for Henri…

Getting to the top of the stairs Remy subtlety glanced back to the floor below, checking to see if he was being watched. It seemed he blended in as the only eyes that tracked him were Rogue's.

Rogue, now there was a conundrum in a half if he ever met one. In a way, she reminded him of his Bella, strong, resilient, smart, a bit mysterious, and could kick his ass. The thief chuckled, his father was right, he had a type.

However, the red headed mutant wasn't the only woman he'd met in the last ten years who fit that description but there was something about her that he couldn't quiet put his finger on. She was different. There was something in her eyes, a familiarity, both of them damaged goods, cracked down the middle of their hearts. If anyone could understand what he was going through, it would be Rogue.

He wouldn't mind sitting down with her and having a beer after this was all over. No tricks, no games, just two people having a beer… though he preferred bourbon himself but he could tell she was more of a beer girl, export stuff, not the watered-down domestic crap. Probably liked fried catfish too, battered an inch thick and seasoned with spices…

To Remy there are two types of women, the ones to forget with and the ones to never forget, the former vastly outnumbering the latter. Rogue definitely belonged in the second group, wasn't often he met a woman he wouldn't mind just spending time with, no strings or bed sheets attached.

Such as Mercy, the love of his brother's life, a sister to him through and through. Some men might have taken it as an insult or challenge when he realized the woman looked straight through him to his brother, but not Remy. He had to trick the shy Henri onto a date with Mercy, the two utterly conspiring against the older LeBeau brother. Worked out though and Remy couldn't have been happier for the man.

Mercy felt the pain of Henri's death possibly worse than all of them, and Remy was doing this for her too…

A great thief has to think with his head as well as his heart, balance what he needs against what he wants. Remy LeBeau was the greatest thief in the world… now was time to prove it.

Pretending to be looking at the museum displays, the Cajun casually walked down the balcony, first going past the hallway the bag man turned down in order to get a look at what he was walking into. Four possible doors, two on each side, widely spaced, the hall ending in a small fountain. After taking a moment to examine some display about New Orleans' oil and gas history, Gambit made sure no one was looking and slipped down the hall.

Four doors, where's the pea? He always loved a good shell game.

Movement, squeak of a door knob. Immediately he zeroed in on the noise, first door to the right, opens to the right. Quickly and silently he bounded forward, getting behind the door as it opened. Nine times out of ten, no one ever looks behind them if the door opens the way they are walking and if this was time ten, he'd deal with it.

The bag man let the door close behind him, walking down the hall towards the exit, never looking back. Gambit made sure not to look directly at him, not wanting to set off that 'I'm being watched' sense. Once the man turned the corner the thief removed himself from the wall he had flattened himself against and examined all his options.

One, he goes into the room right now, taking the 50/50 chance that the recipient of the briefcase was in there and this wasn't a 'drop and go' for the criminal party to pick up later.

Two, he takes the scenic route.

He always did love a leisurely scenic drive on his bike, which reminded him, he was going to have to get that back when this was all over.

Walking to the other door he easily popped the lock and slipped inside. It was a rather large space as hinted at by the length between the doors and it was set up as a library with racks of books lining the walls and tables covered in little green lamps. Being a corner room it had windows on both the left and far walls and seeing as a closed divider was between it and the next, the scenic route was going to get a bit windy.

The windows were actually doors that lead onto a faux balcony, a simple magnetic strip functioned as the alarm and that was easily worked around. The doors opened inwardly and he slipped out into the small space, a waist high wrought-iron gate acting as the balustrade. Climbing over it with the nimbleness of a cat he made his way across to the next set of windows.

Peering inside, the room was an exact copy of the one next door down to the lines of books and the tables with lamps. Two of the lamps were on, the thick briefcase sitting unattended. Double checking that every corner and every shadow were in their proper place, Gambit made his way into the room. Years of experience, and his iris mutation which gave him a keen sense of night-vision, told him that he was alone but he approached the center desks cautiously.

So, the recipient was to pick up the case at a later time? Could be any second now, he had to make this quick.

The briefcase had three-number combination locks on the clips, almost insulting for a man of his talents. Seconds later the clasps flipped up and he was in. Opening the lid he expected anything from money to files to CD's… not this…

Sat inside some form fitted padding, he picked up the metal item and held it in the light… it couldn't be…

It was…

The hilt was inlaid with sterling silver but with a hard stainless shield to protect the user's hand, it was both a decorative and lethal weapon. The rapier's blade broke about a foot from the hilt, jagged and rough.

This wasn't a hand-off, this was a message meant for him.

…

Rogue stood causally checking out one of the displays about the fundraiser, a concentrated effort was being put forth this year to clean up the many historical cemeteries, both of rubbish and 'undesirables'. That word brought a grin to her face, it really shouldn't have, but it did.

The stairwell in her peripheral, she occasionally scanned the room for anything suspicious. A few shady conversations were taking place, but nothing worse than what one would expect at a gathering of some of the richest and most influential people in the city. Overall, it was pretty dull, standing, waiting, avoiding the men who tried to pick her up.

Not to mention everything that Gambit gave her to think about was still rattling around in her brain. He kept trying to get inside her head and Rogue was afraid that maybe, this time, he succeeded. Her body ached, her heart was heavy, her stomach free falling, and her thoughts decidedly befuddled.

Rogue took deep, calming breaths, she couldn't afford to think about what if's and unattainable desires. The Cajun was going to be the death of her sanity if she didn't stop this nonsense right now.

A flash of movement and she saw the thief making his way down the stairs, a bit more quickly than she would expect if everything had gone well. Trying not to jog she made quick steps towards him, meeting up with him just off center of the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"It's a set up," was his not-to-pleased reply.

He didn't have to say it twice, when you're set up you get out of the situation, plans be damned. Cutting through the dance floor they made for the exit only to be stopped by a tall barrel of a man. The suit screamed wealthy but methodical, the shoes, practical, but the face was obscured by the same kind of mask they were wearing.

"Remy LeBeau," he spoke in a deep tenor, four other men backing him up, "once a swamp rat, always a swamp rat."

Gambit, who had flicked two cards between his fingers at the man's appearance, nearly dropped the laminated paper, this the first time she had ever seen the thief genuinely surprised. "Julien?"

The large man gave a pleased laugh, "Oui, thought I was dead did you?"

"You _were_ dead…" the thief was troubled and if Gambit was unnerved then Rogue knew that the situation must be dire.

Slowly she slipped out of her shoes, ready to fight.

The man, Julien, had an entirely too pleased tenor to his voice, taking a step closer, "Do you really think I was stupid enough to try to take you on in a fair fight without a plan?"

Gambit tensed even more, his whole body trembling though she doubted anyone could tell but her since she was right next to him. There was a history between the men, that was clear, and by the tightness of the thief's jaw, it wasn't a good one. Could this be the devil he spoke of?

"You killed Henri," Gambit accused the interloper.

"Non," Julien grinned, "a Russian did," he splayed his hands, "but I _may_ have provided da funding."

The cards in Gambit's hands glowed the brightest magenta she had ever seen and he lifted his arm across his chest, ready to throw the projectiles when the man next to Julien lifted his hand and clicked a button. Rogue could recognize a detonator when she saw one.

"Now, now," Julien held up his hand, "we don't have long, LeBeau, so listen closely."

Rogue eyed the detonator, putting her hand on Gambit's arm, "That's an activation only switch," which meant there was no grabbing it and turning it off.

"Your fille is right," Julien smiled, "da clock is ticking."

"What's dis about Julien," Gambit said harshly, the cards losing a little of their glow, "revenge?"

"Oh, LeBeau," he laughed, "nothing so crass. I simply want what I always wanted."

The thief tilted his head, "Da end of da Thieves Guild?"

"And more," Julien grinned and there was something sickly about the sight, "I want a return of da Old Ways, when men and countries feared us, not dese upstart excuses for organized crime."

"World's changed, Julien," Gambit said through clenched teeth, "it was a dream den, and a nightmare now."

"Non," the man didn't seem fussed, "I only needed patience, isn't dat what Thieves and Assassins share in common, no? Infinite patience. I've carefully put all my pawns into place, LeBeau, I only needed to bring you back to N'Orlean," his grin grew manic by the second, "da match to start da flames dat will bring down both Guilds and spread across the world."

Gambit's face fell in horror, "Dat's why you had Henri killed?"

"What can I say, LeBeau," Julien laughed, clapping his hands together, "took you longer to get here dan expected, but you are… so very… predictable."

The Cajun looked ready to launch at the man and Rogue was ready to fight but Julien held up his hand again. "Everything you touch explodes into ash, LeBeau, dat's why I decided to add some extra umph to tonight's festivities."

"What did you do, Julien?" Gambit was literally twitching to pounce.

Julien leaned forward a bit, his voice going into a whisper, "Why, planted a bomb of course, one which I'll be having blamed on you and your little… gift."

Rogue glanced around at all the wealthy and influential party-goers, if even a handful of them perished in an explosion then Guild relations be damned.

"I've made da city a tinder box," Julien was entirely too pleased with himself, "you have maybe fifteen minutes, just enough time to chase me down… or find da bomb," he started to turn to leave.

Gambit took one step forward but stopped, scanning around, the same thought in his head that had been running through hers since the moment she heard the word, where was the bomb?

"So… predictable," Julien laughed, "save as many as you can, it only takes one death to start a war. Oh," the sickly grin was still plastered on his face, "for old time's sake, I'll tell you it's on da ground floor. Good luck."

As the man and his entourage walked away she traded a glance with the thief and even through the masks they knew exactly what the other was thinking. Rogue ran to the fire pull on the wall while Gambit threw his charged cards to the far end of the room. The resulting alarm and explosion had the effect of causing the party-goers to panic and make for the exits.

…

Ahead of the crowd with his limo at the ready, Julien Boudreaux was able to get away from the building before the streets became a mess of individuals trying to figure out what was going on.

Everything was going as well as expected. LeBeau had taken the bait to come home and Julien figured the thief was resourceful enough to find out about the hand-off at the Presbytere, otherwise his little surprise would have to go another day unused, his men were getting antsy having it set around. Guess this meant he wouldn't be destroying any floats tomorrow during the Mardi Gras Day parade. Well, maybe he would anyway.

"Do we know who da woman is?" Julien asked his second in command.

"Da same one dat helped him with da Worthington Heist and da incident in Toyko," the man answered, pulling some surveillance photos from a portfolio, "not sure what her function was at either event, Lebeau usually works alone." There was one of her standing outside Worthington's apartment complex, staring up at it with the Cajun, then another of her entering the Toyko hotel, though several minutes after LeBeau. "We know she's a mutant but details are sketchy, still waiting to hear back from contacts. She's part of what was once da Brotherhood of Mutants, no one really wants to talk about dem, dey are a fearsome bunch."

"Doesn't matter," Julien waved him off, "she'll soon learn dat LeBeau corrupts and destroys everything he touches."

As the limo sped away, Julien, brother of the late Belle Donna Boudreaux, son of the Assassins' Guild Patriarch Marius Boudreaux, a ghost, grinned, everything was going exactly as planned.

…

Rogue had thrown a table end over end when Claude ran in, fighting through the last of the crowd.

"What's going on?" the man asked, glancing between the mutants as they tore the place apart.

"Bomb," she threw another table to the side, nothing there either.

"Merde," the man cursed. "What you need me to do?"

"Help look," a table went flying, "or start running."

"Right," the thief swallowed and started to pull the cloths off the tables at the entrance.

"Rogue," she heard Gambit shout, "found it."

Jogging over to the end of the room in her bare stockings, Rogue threw her mask to the floor. She joined Gambit who had also tossed his away during his search. He was staring down at a turned over display.

Underneath was a metal rack, sitting inside were three missile warheads strapped together, attached to a timer.

This was more than just a bomb.

Five Minutes.

"They teach yah anything about incendiaries in tha Guild?" she asked to cover her sudden freight at the site.

"Only how to blast a safe," Claude's voice trembled.

"Rogue?" Gambit looked at her, his breathing quick and shallow. The man, Julien, knew that this would be something out of Gambit's wheel house and that he'd have no chance of disarming it.

"Ex-soviet," she answered, scavenging every memory, hers and stolen, for answers, getting up close to the weapons, "non nuclear but bunker busting," she glanced up at the shape and design of the Presbytere, "good news, tha building will take tha brunt of it, bad news, it won't exist once these go off, tha debris, concussion wave, could go for blocks."

The thief looked outside where police and the fire department started to pull up. "Only takes one death," his eyes went back to Rogue, apologetic in every way, "Can you disarm it? Can… someone?"

Not wasting time on the emotions she gingerly handled the ignition mechanism, all the wires black, each bomb on its own system, "No," she looked at the ever decreasing time they had left, "not enough time, I'd have ta do each separately."

"Den we contain it," he didn't question her assessment or push her to keep digging and looked around, "got to be a basement to dis place."

Two minutes.

"Make me a hole," she came to the decision, floating over the rack to be able to hold on to both sides.

"What are you doing?" Oh, now he questioned her.

"Improvising," she said with a grunt, lifting the warheads up, getting the best grip she could on them.

It only took him a second to understand and a whole suit of cards flew from his hand, striking the nearest window sending it shattering.

With all her will and might, Rogue sped off into the sky, lugging the three warheads with her. Without the building to contain the blast the concussion wave, arguably the deadliest part of the weapon, could travel unheeded until it dissipated. She needed to get it as far away as she could in the time allowed… without getting herself killed in the process. That's always the trick, isn't it.

Faster she flew, glancing down at the timer.

Forty Seconds.

Thirty.

Twenty.

Spinning in the air like a discus thrower, Rogue launched the device into the atmosphere.

Pausing to make sure her aim was true, that was her mistake. The bomb exploded, all three warheads going off in sync, the concussion blast moving faster than her ability to fly. As if she had been hit in the chest by an elephant going at mach two, Rogue went spinning…

and began to fall.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, so I could not, for the life of me, pick someone to play Julien. Everyone I thought of who could do the job I said 'nope, like them too much to make them that scum-bag'. I will take suggestions if anyone has one.

Oh, and did I say downhill? I meant just straight down… bbwwaaahahahahahah!


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:**Thanks for the reviews! But you realize you're just encouraging me! :-p I probably should have mentioned that over on TFN's JCF I was given the title "Queen of Evil Cliffies"… ;-) I expect to be yelled at a few more times before this is all over, but don't worry, by the time this is all said and done, it'll be worth it! :-D Trust me, I'm a Doctor… ;-)

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>

_New Orleans_

Terminal Velocity: the speed at which a falling object can no longer accelerate because the downward force of gravity is cancelled out by the upward force of drag. The object continues to fall and will eventually hit the Earth, the results usually unpleasant if no kind of breaking system is used to slow the descent.

Rogue knew this, she understood the mechanics of it, but as her body freefell from the sky she couldn't quite seem to understand why it was so important.

…

Seconds after Rogue shot out the window, Gambit followed, climbing up onto the roof of the Presbytere to watch her progress. Mentally he counted down the seconds as she disappeared against the backdrop, realizing she would wait until the point of no return in order to release the payload into the sky.

"Rogue," he said the word through clenched teeth as he reached the twenty second mark, wishing he could see where she was but even his mutated irises weren't that good.

The sky exploded in a brilliant fireball, the thief shielding his red eyes from the light of the blast. The concussion wave hit and it was dissipated to the point that a few windows shuddered, car alarms went off, but nothing to be worried about.

Scanning a sky still lit up from the afterglow and falling debris, he saw her… dropping fast, back first, legs and arms in the air, unconscious. One doesn't simply fly straight up when dealing with such heights, especially as the Earth continues to move below them. Gambit gauged that she was about a half mile away...

Not even taking a split second to think about, the Cajun bounded off the roof of the museum onto the next… and ran...

…

Rogue could hear the wind whipping by her, the horrible lump in her stomach as gravity took its toll, but it all felt like a dream. She fought towards consciousness but her mind was so quiet… so peaceful… the silence was addictive.

When she was younger it wasn't so bad, not as many voices crowded her head and they were easier to ignore. Then how did the pastor put it in the sermons, 'No room at the Inn'? Of course, most of the psyche's she had absorbed where of the kind of people even Jesus wouldn't help. And they sat there, waiting to creep up on her when she wasn't looking.

Then there was Danvers, always staring back at her, judging, a constant reminder of her guilt.

Deep down, Rogue knew the stuff she did for Magento, both before and after the incident with the blonde mutant, likely lead to someone's death. It troubled her but she had to face the facts that as the world approached learning about mutants even doing the right thing could cause untold consequences. But killing someone hand to hand, or near enough, and having them inside her head, so solid and real…

Rogue couldn't do this anymore…

Momma always said she had a choice. She could hide, be ashamed and afraid of what she was… or be proud to be a mutant, take her rightful place in the world order.

What if there was a space in between? She could be proud of what she was… different from everyone else but in that way exactly the same. Maybe there didn't need to be an us vs them… but them doesn't seem to want to live peacefully with us…

Humans are scared, panicky creatures which destroy everything they don't understand…

Humans, mutants, are all given the same choice, to be the hero or the villain in this equation…

Every thought that crossed her mind she was unable to reconcile against another. Damn that red eyed Cajun, confusing her, clouding the issue. He didn't know her, not like her momma, didn't understand what it felt like to be on the front line of the approaching war.

War, that's where this was all leading… eventually that bridge will be crossed and burned to the ground.

Ground, it was coming up fast… she should probably avoid it… but there was something beautiful in the silence.

Silence, hallow is the quiet whispering wind… if she could just stay like this a little bit longer… make the voices go away forever…

Rogue's body was jerked to the side, a solid mass ploughing into her. The sudden change in momentum caused her stomach to lurch and her conscious to awaken. Her mind was groggy and heavy as the voices filtered back from the shadows, so much for the silence.

Two strong arms held her against an equally powerful body as she came to a shuddering stop.

"I got you," a familiar voice whispered in her ear, "I got you."

Eyes fluttering open, the red irises of Gambit stared intensely at her, "It work?" her throat was dry and cracked.

"It worked, Rogue," he offered her a small upturn on his lips, an honest gesture that told her she had succeeded.

"Good," she was tired, her body weak, barely feeling the scrape of ceiling tar across her bare feet, tearing at the stockings, "good."

Confident she was safe in the thief's arms she passed out.

…

_Thieves Guild House_

Mercy sat flipping through the file in front of her, trying to piece it all together but she was missing something vital. Claude and Emil sat quietly with her, also unsure what to make of the information presented to them.

The door opened and her brother-in-law walked in with heavy steps. He was missing his jacket and tie, first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and he was definitely not happy.

"How's Rogue?" Mercy asked, Claude having filled her in on the bomb and Rogue's dash into the sky. Remy had run off and never came back so the guilded thief returned to the House to report.

"She'll be fine," Remy replied evenly, not angry, not sad, not anything.

"Do we know who planted da bomb?" Mercy asked, still shocked that anyone would do such a thing, it was even below the Assassin Guild's level of insanity.

Remy's jaw went tight, letting out a tired laugh as if some big joke had been on him this whole time, "Yeah, Julien."

"Julian?" she ran through all the Julian's she knew but none of them could incite this in her brother-in-law… except… "Julien Boudreaux?"

"Dat be da one," the words were harsh and everyone in the room looked quizzically at each other.

"Julien's dead," though now she was uncertain, it wasn't like Remy to make that big of a mistake, especially considering his role in the man's death.

"Apparently not," he began to pass, fingers twitching at his sides, "he's been behind all of dis, from da beginning."

Mercy glanced back at the file laying open on the table, "Julien did all dis?"

The thief began to pace, hands dancing at his sides as if he wanted to blow something up, mumbling, "Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left."

"What?" she had no idea what he talking about.

"Julien," he turned, rage in his eyes, "he made dis personal."

"Remy," Mercy's tone was cautionary, even though something inside her begged to let loose the Cajun on the man who killed her beloved.

"Dis wasn't about silencing Henri because he got too close," the man's red eyes glowered as he approached her, "dis… was personal."

"You can't think like dat," even as she said the words she knew he could tell she only spoke them half-heartedly, "a thief balances what he wants and what he needs, what's in his head and what's in his heart."

"And what's in your head, Mercy, in your heart?" he challenged her and she looked away, unable to get the strength to stop the man. He took her hands, "I came here to give you fair warning, mon ami bien-aimé."

Mercy didn't need him to explain, Julien had made this more than personal, made it about blood, and that was exactly what the thief was going to get from the man if he was truly still alive.

"Remy," she said weakly as he stomped from the room, not looking back.

There was a long silence before Claude managed to speak up. "Now what do we do?"

She turned to the two men, composing herself, she was the House Matriarch, it was her duty to protect the family, the Guild. Glancing down at the file on the table she came to the only conclusion she could, "If Remy is gonna start a war, den we best be ready to finish it."

…

_Home of Robert Lord_

Rogue awoke with a headache, body aching from the concussion wave that had hit her. She'd heal quick enough but that didn't mean she wouldn't suffer until then.

Glancing around she was back in her room at Gambit's safe house. She lay on the bed, still in the tattered remains of her dress, gloves and stockings. The thief didn't try anything funny, simply laid her down and put his dress jacket over her as some small manner of warmth. A small fire was crackling in the gas fireplace.

Stretching her body, she swung her legs off the bed and managed to stand, working the kinks out of her muscles, bones popping loudly. She held his jacket in her hands and could smell the husky sent of his aftershave, the man never bothered with cologne, she figured that one out on her own. As she straightened it out to lay it down, something caught her eye.

Tucked in the inside pocket of the coat was the King of Hearts that had got her into this mess in the first place. Why would Gambit just leave it for her to take so easily? The events at the party troubled him, but could it have run that deep?

She slipped the card half-way out before deciding that it wouldn't be right, the whole situation having moved past this a long time ago. Putting the King back she laid the jacket across the end of the bed for now.

First thing first, get out of these clothes that smelt of ash and sweat. The long gloves came off, one having been torn and ripped down the side. It was a miracle Gambit didn't accidently touch her but she could tell he hadn't. Her jewelry was missing except for one earring that amazingly managed to survive.

Going to pull the dress off her shoulders, there was a soft knock on the door. She called out, "Yes?"

"Rogue," came back the thief's voice, "may I come in?"

The man was awfully polite, "Yeah," she pulled the dress back up, "I guess."

The door swung open slowly, the thief walking in with her leather jacket and a small bag in his hand, "I picked up your stuff, you okay?"

"I'm fine," which was the truth, the aches and pains would go away with a nice warm shower. There was a strange sullenness to the situation and she tried to make light. "But if yah keep me doing tha heavy lifting around here I'll have ta start charging yah proper."

Gambit frowned, a thoughtful look on his face as he sat her stuff on the bed and picked up his coat, not checking for the card she noted, "I owe you another apology, petite," he started to say, "I know you've been tagging along because of what happened with Mystique and Carol Danvers. I gather you've been trying to make peace with that through helping me and I've used dat to my advantage, been using you. I never thought it'd go dis far, I know you're invulnerable but you coulda died out dere."

His words floored her, too close to the truth, more than he realized, and she stood, mouth slightly gapped open, unsure how to reconcile this version of Gambit against the ones she had already seen.

"I'm just saying," his brow furrowed, not really looking at her anymore, "things are only gonna get worse now and dis isn't your fight. You should go, leave N'Orlean tonight, I won't think any less of you though I doubt you would care if I did."

"No," she found herself saying the word before she even had a chance to really think things through, but once she did, "I made this my fight because you're my friend, LeBeau. Be it by hook or by crook, yah made me that and I'm not gonna walk out on yah."

"Rogue—"

"Heighten sense of self-preservation, remember?" she pointed at him, the red head found herself a little bit angry at the man for making assumptions of her. "Besides, a man like yah knows better than ta invite a lady ta a party then ask her ta leave before tha last dance."

Gambit stared at her, just as angry, almost fuming, but she locked her eyes with his and wouldn't back down. He blinked first, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh, "You don't understand what kind of mess you're getting into with dis, cheri."

"Then make me understand," she shrugged as if it was as simple as that, because to her it was. Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, was her friend and that's exactly what he needed right now, someone who he could talk to, trust. Someone to help chase the demons away, "That man, Julien, he tha devil you spoke of?"

"Hein?" he paused, "Non, da devil is much more… gracious. Let's you walk yourself to your own doom and thank him afterwards for his time," the words were tired and raw. "Julien, he's just da villain."

"What happened, Gambit?" she asked as gently as she could, she knew better than most what it was like to hold all this in and she wouldn't let him do the same.

The mutant's hands dipped into his jacket and pulled out the King of Hearts, holding it out for her. "Do you know what dis is?"

Taking the card, images started to creep up on her and she quickly squashed them, "Tha memories attached to this are rain-wrapped in emotion, I don't dare try ta touch them for fear of getting swept away," fearing another episode like on the plane she handed it back, "I knew it was important ta yah, yah kept it close ta yah heart. That's why I took it, was trying ta get back at yah for that little stunt in Baghdad."

"Know how to hit where it hurts, cheri," there was no malice in his voice, just sorrow, "I carry dis ta remind me…"

When he didn't continue, "Remind yah of what?"

Rogue thought she was going to have to prompt the man again, but he slowly looked up and said, "When I was young, met da most beautiful girl in all of N'Orlean…"

_A twelve year old Remy LeBeau ran across a roof top after stealing from Lacroux's candy store. He sat down to chomp down on his ill-gotten caramel when he spied a golden haired goddess standing in front of a shop, bored, waiting with several others. _

_The eleven year old noticed him and stared up at the little thief who unabashedly admired her, red colored eyes twinkling. A laughing smile formed on her lips._

"Bella Donna," he whispered the words.

"Belladonna?" Rogue couldn't help but frown.

"Means beautiful woman in Italian," Gambit managed a smile.

"It's also a poison," she didn't want to rain on his obviously wonderful memory, but, "who would name their daughter that?"

"Marius Boudreaux," he answered simply. "Patriarch of the Assassin's Guild."

_A man, powerful in his build and his stance, followed his daughter's gaze to the young thief. Marius Boudreaux was not amused and sent two of his men to chase the boy away. _

_Remy LeBeau waited till last second before dashing off, hopping from roof to roof, Bella Donna watching him as he went with a grin on her face. The cute boy was interesting, she liked interesting._

"It was a childhood crush dat grew into more as we got older," a reminiscent smile ghosted his lips, "but we had to keep it quiet, da fighting had died down, but all dat dere needed was one spark…"

_Remy and Bella Donna, barely seventeen, sat in an old barn, picnic laid out. He flipped his cards, expertly tossing them into the air. As an Ace of Diamonds flew up it was struck by a dagger which pinned it to a timber. Remy glanced back at the beauty who smirked at him, challenging him to toss another._

_Men gathered at both ends of the barn and the couple scrambled to their feet, ready to fight if need be. That's when Remy spotted Henri at one end, with a group of thieves. He only recognized a few on the other end, Assassins._

"Regular Romeo and Juliet," Rogue mumbled, and if memory served that story didn't end well, "almost think yah making it up if I couldn't... sense tha memories being true."

"What do dey say, art imitates life? Or is it da other way around?" he tried a chuckle but it all came out too tired. "Only in dis story, we were supposed to have a happy ending."

_Remy and Bella Donna stood in St. Louis Cathedral, neutral territory, John-Luc and Marius standing on opposite ends of the dais._

"_On your eighteen birthday, Bella Donna," Marius spoke with a deep timber, "you will marry Remy LeBeau who will already be of age, it will seal a truce between da Guilds."_

"_Dere will be peace," John-Luc nodded, pleased with the outcome, "no more fighting, no more death."_

_Remy and Bella Donna looked at each other, apprehension in their faces, after all, it's one thing to care about another person, a whole other to be pushed into a wedding when you're only eighteen. But they cared more about their families, the Guilds, then they did about their own selves… kissing, they held each other, knowing they could make a life together._

_From the shadows a man just shy of his twenty first birthday fumed… this could mess up everything… or perhaps be exactly what he needed?_

"There are no happy endings," Rogue said softly, she should know.

"Aye, petite," he agreed sadly. "Aye…"


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Holy-Background-Dump Batman! This actually was supposed to be part of the last chapter but it went on longer than expected so that's why these two chapters are a bit odd in their construction. And for those of you worried that I'm spending all the time on Gambit's origin story, don't worry, Rogue isn't going to get off the hook that easily.

Thank you for reading! Love ya'll!

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen<strong>

_Home of Robert Lord_

Gambit continued his story, "Day of da wedding came…"

_Remy and Bella Donna kissed each other soundly to the applause of the Thieves and Assassin's gathered in the Cathedral. Over the past year the two had gotten closer and closer, Remy falling deeply in love with the golden goddess who had captured his attention so long ago. _

_During the outdoor reception in the Park, Remy and Bella Donna got separated as various friends and family congratulated the couple and the peace their marriage symbolized. Remy and Henri managed to skip away to the outskirts to talk, married man to married man._

"_LeBeau," a voice shouted, several men stalking over to the brothers._

_Remy rolled his eyes, "Julien, any further insults you'd like to throw at me today?"_

"_What my sister sees in a piece of thieving trash like you I shall never understand," Julien said through gritted teeth._

"_Come on mon ami," Remy grinned, nothing could ruin his mood, "you need better material dan dat, something with a little more pizzazz."_

"_You haven't insulted his questionable grooming habits yet," Henri offered._

"_Hey, I shaved today," Remy defended himself, then shrugged, "but yeah, dat's good, I like dat, nice solid foundation to start on."_

_Julien was not amused, "Remy LeBeau, seeing as you're now _technically_ part of da the Assassin's Guild by marriage, I challenge you to a duel under Guild Law."_

_Remy tilted his head quizzically then glanced over at his brother, "I think someone drank too much of da spiked punch."_

"_Da punch has been spiked?" Henri asked._

"_Course it has," Remy winked._

"_Do you thieves have no respect?" Julien gestured to one of the men with him, he was carrying a long box._

_The LeBeau brothers looked at each other then shrugged, saying together, "Non."_

_Julien popped open the box, two silver rapiers laying snuggly inside. The assassin grabbed one and tossed it in Remy's direction. The thief caught it easily by the handle, examining the weapon, it was the real deal and not tampered with. _

"_You must be joking, mon ami," Remy laughed, abet a nervous one._

"_Da Thieves Guild is a blight on dis city," Julien took the other sword, giving it a few test swings, "we should have squashed you, not had dis travesty of a wedding. You've corrupted Bella Donna, infected her with lies dat have started to spread through da Guild."_

"_Julien," Henri warned, trying to impose himself between the men only to find Julien's cohorts rounding on him, "you don't want to do dis. Especially here, now."_

"_Non," Julien started to stalk forward, "dis is exactly where and when."_

_The assassin took several swipes at the thief who automatically parried away each strike. Henri took on the others, getting one down but unable to reach Remy as Julien continued his attack, Remy defending himself only and having to back up to do so._

"_Dis is lunacy, Julien!" Remy shouted, blocking each blow of the other man's sword._

_Julien kept on his assault, Remy forced to defend himself against his brother-in-law until he could get into the right position. The assassin over extended and Remy moved inside his defense and kicked him in the leg, a dirty trick against fencing rules but it sent Julien to the ground. Remy stood on the other man's blade as he was hunched over._

"_War's over," Remy shook his head at the man._

"_Dis truce will make us weak," Julien snarled. _

_Julien snapped the blade on his rapier and jumped up to stab Remy in the gut. The thief instinctively blocked and twisted the weapon away from himself, but something happened and the broken tip drove into Julien's soft middle instead of off to the side._

"_Why!" Remy shouted at the stupid man as he pushed himself off the blade to fall to the ground, opening the wound to bleed._

"_Dere will never be peace," Julien said, blood starting to spot his lips. _

_Remy backed away, utter disbelief and terror on his face… what just happened?_

"_Julien!" Bella Donna ran next to her brother, checking for life signs, she may not always see eye to eye with Julien, but he was still her kin. One of Julien's backup was also checking for a pulse against the man's neck._

"_What did you do?" Bella Donna asked and Remy wasn't sure if she was asking him or her brother._

"_He… he…" Remy tried to get the words out, how could he tell his wife that her brother just committed hari-kiri using Remy as the instrument of his death?_

_It was then he noticed a rather large group had gathered, both Assassin and Thief. Most had seen what had happened, knowing that Julien's move was intentional, but that didn't cover the fact that the son of the Assassin Patriarch was now dead. _

_Someone pulled Bella off of the body as the others started to pick up the fallen man. She tried to move towards Remy but Marius and John-Luc showed up. Remy couldn't remember much of what followed next, only that he was dragged one direction, Bella another._

"He didn't die," Rogue whispered, trying to figure it out, "unless that was someone else at tha party?"

"Non," Gambit's eyes had gotten darker as he retold the tale, "dat was Julien. You of all people should know you don't easily forget a man you murdered."

It was a bit of a low blow, but it struck true and the man was already in enough pain, "There's more, isn't there."

"Four days passed," the thief continued, "it was tense, the funeral took place, no one was sure what dis meant for da truce. Julien's act was intentional, but Marius' son was dead at my hand. Dat's when I received word from Bella, we'd run away, put all da war and blood behind us. She would escape from her Guild House, I needed to procure a getaway vehicle."

_Remy snuck across the edge of a gator filled swamp, coming to the docks that held the Assassin Guild boat house. The Assassin's preferred country estates as lots and lots of grounds for someone to have to sneak across was good for security. Inside the boat house would be the keys to a motor boat that would get them across the swamp to where a car was stashed. From there, North, East or West, he'd let Bella pick._

_He could just hot-wire the boat but that would alert the two guards who sat inside the boat house, playing poker. Slipping through a window, Remy found a tackle box and quietly grabbed a round bobbin. Charging it quickly he tossed it over a covered yacht, the item landing on the card table, exploding on contact. _

_The guards distracted, he came up behind one and knocked him out with a swift punch. The other man recovered and threw himself at Remy, taking him to the ground. The two fought, throwing punches, the larger Assassin going for the Thief's throat. Managing to plant his foot on the guard's torso, Remy kicked hard and the man flew back but wasn't about to be stopped. _

_Winded and coughing, Remy's hands felt around for anything he could use. His hand felt the familiar slick of laminated playing cards. Ace and an Eight. They took the charge quickly and he flicked them expertly at the man who was knocked out by the concussion created by the explosion. _

_Remy turned over to get back on his feet and stared down at the cards scattered about… he snatched up several and tucked them into his sleeve._

_Grabbing a set of keys from the case, Remy ran out of the boat house and down the dock to the boat he had chosen earlier. A small speed boat, flat and quick, exactly what they needed. _

_All the lights in the mansion kicked on and he looked up to see a dark clad figure running down the dock. The cloak was midnight blue, not black, a true assassin would never be caught in black on a job, or a thief for that matter, though everyone seemed to think it was their favorite color. It was his Bella and he quickly undid the mooring line before starting up the engine. _

Crack!

_The front windshield burst and his head shot up in time to see Bella, barely thirty feet from him now, fall down in a slump. _

_Remy moved just as a shot tore across his arm, tearing open the skin. Slipping three cards from his sleeve he sent them after the large gas tank sitting further up the dock, the resulting explosion set off a fireball which spread to nearby boats. _

_Rushing up to his fallen wife, she stared up at the sky, her body shuddering, her mouth whispering, "Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left."_

"_Bella," Remy pulled the cloak aside and saw a gushing wound where her liver would be, black blood spilling out. A wound there was no coming back from…_

"_Remy," she said breathlessly, reaching up to touch his face one last time before her eyes went cold and her hand dropped away._

"_No, non," the thief muttered, cradling the woman in his arms for what seemed like forever._

_The fire was starting to subside and men made their way onto the dock. Kissing his Bella for the last time he made the decision to run, to find his revenge. Jumping into the boat he kicked it into high throttle and sped across the swamp… something dying inside as he did so._

Rogue stood with a heavy heart, wanting to say she was sorry but knowing that it would sound hollow to the man, something she was very familiar with.

"I'm da cliché," he splayed his arms before collapsing them, "but I like it dis way."

"It's better than tha alternative," she hoped he could hear the true understanding in her voice.

Two broken souls stood together in a dark room on the eve of one of the most celebratory days of the year.

Perhaps in a different world in another life, Rogue would have moved forward and held the man in her arms. Let him kiss her, touch her, drown away his pain in her body. But that was what he had been doing all this time. Being one cliché so he wouldn't have to be the other.

It was better this way, better they couldn't touch, it wouldn't have solved anything and only make matters worse for both of them.

"That's why yah couldn't come back," she whispered.

Gambit's eyes met hers…

_He had been angry, upset, mad as hell, and this allowed for him to get caught by his fellow thieves who dragged him in front of his father twenty-seven hours later. The mutant left on his knees in the middle of the Patriarch's study._

"_Gee, Remy," Henri came up beside him, noting his brother still wore the same blood stained clothing he had on when he held his Bella in his arms, "you slept or ate anything?"_

"_Been hunting," was the younger LeBeau's answer._

"_You can stop hunting," John-Luc was tapping his hand against his desk, "I've spoken to Marius, we've come to a compromise."_

"_What?" Remy said harshly._

"_In return for him keeping da truce and not sending every assassin in da Guild after you," John-Luc's words were even, only his tapping fingers betraying his emotions, "you are to be excommunicated from da Thieves Guild and to leave N'Orlean, never to return."_

"_Non!" Remy jumped up, almost knocking Henri down, planting his hands on his father's desk. "Bella is dead, Julien got himself killed, I'm gonna find out who's behind dis and make him pay."_

"_Non," John-Luc stood, facing off his son without an inch of fear of the devil inside, "You're gonna let dis go, Remy LeBeau. Walk away."_

"_NO!" Remy turned and stalked out the door, using two of the playing cards still in his sleeve to knock down the guards who brought him in. _

_As he stomped down the hallway the mutant thief threw cards in every direction, destroying everything from mirrors to potted plants._

"_Remy," Henri shouted as he chased his brother down the hallway, grabbing him to spin him around. The mutant flicked out one last card, barely catching himself before tossing it in the man's face._

"_I can't let it go, Henri," Remy told his brother. _

"_I know," Henri looked at him sadly, "but you have to look at dis like a thief, with your head as well as your heart. Don't you think Marius is looking for da man who killed his daughter? If he hasn't found him by now, what makes you think you will?"_

_Remy wanted to argue, his jaw contorted with anger. _

"_And think of father," Henri continued, "he just watched Marius lose both his children, don't you think he's scare he's gonna lose you? He'd rather see you banished dan dead."_

"_Bella," Remy said the word, filled with pain._

"_I know, I know," Henri held his brother by the shoulders, "but she wanted da peace as much as da rest of us, would she want you to throw it all away? To put da families in danger?"_

_Remy looked away, not wanting to hear his brother's words but knowing they were true. He stared at the last card he had to play… a King of Hearts… creased and rumpled, starting to wear at the edges. Normally he would will energy into such an item, but this time he funneled his heart, everything that made him feel. He'd hold onto the card, storing it close to where his heart was supposed to be, as a reminder that he had one, once. _

_And then Remy LeBeau walked away… making one sacrifice for the sake of a bigger goal… and Gambit was born…_

"Do you understand now, Rogue?" he asked softly but his tone was as serious as she had ever heard it.

"Yes," she answered, knowing that this man had held two people whom he loved dearly in his arms as they crossed the veil and it shattered something inside him. And here she thought she was the most broken one of the two… but there were no prizes for first or second place in that competition.

"Good," it was almost like he said it to himself than her.

"Yah didn't have ta tell me tha whole story," she pointed out quietly, starting to get worried, "and a man like yah, he values his secrets…"

Gambit's eyes met hers again and a smile crossed his lips, the kind of expression one gets when they have finally resolved an issue they had struggled over. "A thief has to balance what he wants and what he needs, what's in his heart and what's in his head. Petite, I'm a great thief, but I'm not da best," he admitted to her, "Henri was da best, I know what he'd do in dis situation, and it would protect both da families. Dat's in my head…"

"But it's not in your heart," she whispered, all too familiar emotions flooding back through her memories.

"Non," he let out a laugh, "Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left," he said as if it answered everything. "I finally figured out who killed Bella, who's behind all of dis, and I'm gonna make him pay for what he's done. Den things are gonna get real messy as I said. If you still want to be a part of dat, den you should know what you're fighting for."

Gambit was her friend, he was hurting, and nothing she could say would take any of that away but she had to do _something_. "I'm fighting for you," she made sure to stress the correct pronunciation on the final word.

"And here I thought you were smarter dan dat," he said the insult without malice, sadness though, as if he had hoped she'd tell him something else, that she would run away.

Rogue wanted to reply but was unable to find her voice, the man taking the silence as his cue to exit. Wrapped up in turbulent emotions, the red headed mutant was left to wonder when did all this get so damn complicated?

…

Remy LeBeau stood at his window which had a view of St. Charles Blvd, his tux shirt was off, a tank clinging to his body. He was meant to be getting changed but was stopped by the beautiful lights outside. It wasn't terribly late, just after midnight, and revelers were already on the streets with lamps and costumes, celebrating Mardi Gras Day early.

He had a plan, a great plan, but none of that mattered anymore.

There was a soft knock at his door and he didn't bother to acknowledge it. Could only be Rogue, likely come to tell him she was leaving… that's what he hoped. The family, they knew what they signed up for joining the Guild. The Southern beauty thought she was just along for a fun ride, something different than the usual, not that he could blame her for wanting that.

But now everything had fallen apart, he didn't want her to get killed over this, not for him.

All the same, he felt the need to hold off on her telling him just a little bit longer…

The door slowly opened, padded feet walking in and shutting it behind them. Looking over his shoulder, Rogue's hair was damp and she was dressed in her green striped pajamas with heavy socks and gloves completing her usual look. Even in her most vulnerable of fashion, she still looked like she could kick his ass.

"Coming into a man's room in da dead of night," he attempted some banter, finding he'd miss it when she was gone, wasn't often he found someone who held their own against his charms, "folks would find dat unseemly."

She frowned before the words clicked and her eyes glanced over at the large bed, as if she hadn't even considered the delicacy of the situation. "I…" her cheeks flushed a bit and he turned his whole body towards her to take the brunt of her confession of leaving.

"I…" she tried again, "I wanted ta tell yah a story."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** In the unlikely event you haven't seen X-Men: First Class, there are big spoilers in this chapter for the ending of the movie. If you don't want to be spoiled, ignore the first section that's in italics (the other italics are safe). You won't be lost if you skip, the background simply helps to set the tone for what Rogue says afterwards.

And sorry for the delay but real life got in the way for a bit there (sinus infection, swollen ankle, etc). I am still several chapters ahead but I think I'm going to have to slow down on the posting for a bit anyway or else I will get ahead of myself without proper editing.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

_Home of Robert Lord_

"A story, cheri?" Gambit questioned and Rogue had to admit, it did sound a little ridiculous.

"Yah know Mystique raised me," she pushed on, not getting distracted, not losing her nerve. "That she trained not just me but Pryo, QuickSilver, and Avalanche?"

"Oui," he gave her an intense stare, unsure where she was going with this.

"Magneto, he liked ta come around, from time ta time, check on our progress," and to keep an eye on his son, though Rouge hadn't known that until much later, just one more accidental secret she was made to keep, "yah might not believe this, but tha man, he likes ta tell stories."

That threw the thief, his face softening.

"He'd talk about his childhood," she continued, afraid if she stopped she wouldn't be able to start back up again, "about tha concentration camps, about Sebastian Shaw. Do yah know that story? What Shaw did ta him, and what Magneto did ta Shaw?"

"A bit," Gambit answered quietly. "I know what he did to Shaw." The story was well versed in the mutant community, it was an event that changed everything.

_Shaw was a Nazi officer at a Polish concentration camp in WW2 when he met the young Erik Lensherr. In an attempt to study the boy's mutation, Shaw killed Erik's mother right in front of him to get a reaction. That wasn't the end of the torture but eventually after the war Shaw escaped and Erik made it his life's goal to hunt him down. _

_Years later, Erik met Charles Xavier and the two became friends along with Mystique who had been an 'adopted' sister of Xavier's. They gathered other mutants around them and attempted to help them understand their abilities and to not be ashamed or afraid of what they were._

_Mystique gave Erik the mutant code-name of Magneto and it stuck. _

_However, it became obvious that Magneto and Xavier did not quite see eye to eye about how to deal with the Shaw's of the world and the prejudice that was piling against them._

_The government enlisted the mutant's help to deal with Shaw who had taken his own personal submarine to Cuban to start World War III. The group was able to fight against Shaw's mutant followers and eventually stop Shaw's plan from succeeding, but Xavier was unable to stop Magneto from getting revenge against Shaw. Magneto drove a Reichsmark coin through the man's head, killing him._

_Then the military turned on the mutants, firing missiles at them which Magneto attempted to send back to the naval vessels. Xavier was able to stop the whole-sale slaughter but it cost him his ability to walk, an ill-placed ricochet striking his spine. _

_Xavier and Magneto ended their friendship and in a way, Shaw got what he wanted, a whole new War, one much more subtle and dangerous than anything he could have possibly hoped for._

"On one of his visits," Rogue continued, if Gambit knew about the Cuban Missile Crisis incident then he knew enough, "Magneto started telling us about Shaw's death, for maybe tha hundredth time, only this day, he told us part of tha story he'd always left out," she felt as if her throat might close up on her at any moment, "I can't even remember why he did it, what prompted it, but I can remember tha story."

The Cajun stood quietly, as she took a few breaths, calming herself.

"He told us that before he confronted Shaw, Xavier talked ta him… they were still friends then…" she chose her next words carefully, remembering the hurt and pain Magneto tried and failed to hide as he spoke, "Xavier told Magneto that going after Shaw, killing him and taking revenge on all tha people who hurt him so badly, would not bring him peace…" mist started to form in the corner of her eyes but she would not cry, "to which Magneto replied, peace was never an option."

Gambit's face fell, questions on his lips but she pressed on.

"When Mystique, tha one person who cared about me, who loved me, was murdered…" she almost choked on the memories… "I remembered Magneto's story… and I believed him.

_Rogue watched as a building, already on fire, collapsed under its own weight, surely her mother would have gotten out in time? A figure darted up into the sky, a woman, covered in blood that wasn't her own… _

"As I tracked down the woman who killed her, I remembered tha story… and I believed him.

_Rogue walked into a room where four Air Force officers sat at desks, no one noticed her, they were used to people coming in and out. Tugging off a glove she strode purposefully past them, her hand brushing against the back of their necks, each dropping like flies…_

"As I confronted that murdering blonde bitch, I remembered tha story… and I believed him.

_Rogue watched as Carol Danvers crossed back over to the piano, having noticed the broken frame. This was it, she finally had her…._

"When I realized what I'd done, that I got what I wanted, I remembered tha story… and I believed him.

_Rogue sat in a corner of a dingy restaurant, weeks later, slowly bending metal knives and forks as if they were made of putty. Carol was still there, whispering, screaming, a solid conscious skimming the surface of her own…_

"Every time I use my ill-gotten powers, I remember tha story… and I believed him."

Silence settled between them, she could no longer look at the mutant thief, it was everything she could do to keep the tears back. She wasn't going to cry, not in front of him, not ever.

"Do you…" Gambit started awkwardly, "do you still believe he was right? Dat peace isn't an option?"

"I…" her voice failed her for a moment, but she swallowed, wetting her mouth, "I don't know," Rogue admitted, "but I do know that Xavier… Xavier was right."

She looked up at the thief but now he was the one to look away, out the window, before saying, "Are you trying to stop me, Rogue?"

It was a good question, but the truth was, "No." There was no point in trying to stop him, he had to figure this one out on his own and there wasn't a damned thing she could do other than hope she will be there to keep him from making an even worse mistake than she did.

He took a step forward, "Are you leaving?"

Shaking her head gently, "No."

The man looked genuinely confused, "What _are_ you doing, mon cheri?"

Rogue took a long breath, holding it for a second, "Just telling yah a story."

With that she turned towards the door, feeling the thief's intense stare at her back as she took hold of the handle.

"Remy," his name felt both strange and pleasant on her lips as she used it for the first time, "what is it tha say, good friends help yah move, great friends help you move tha body?" she looked over her shoulder at him. "Just make sure it ain't your body I'll be moving tomorrow."

Before the man could say anything, she slipped out and pulled the door closed behind her. She hadn't really known what possessed her to go to him, to tell him Magneto's story. But as much as the thief annoyed her, exasperated her, flirted with her, he was her friend and she hated that she didn't know how to help him.

She figured of all people she would be the one to know… but remembering when she stood in his shoes, she's not sure she would have listened to anyone. Maybe Pyro, but he didn't have much to say and kept to himself until it was all over. He had been afraid of her, not that she could blame him, she wasn't exactly the most hospitable after her mother died.

Pain swelled at her temples and she stumbled against the barren wall, voices crying out but she pushed them back. She didn't need this right now, she was plenty reminded of her guilt and tomorrow… tomorrow she'd likely have much more to add to it.

…

Edward James Olmos as Marius Bordeaux

_Assassin's Guild House_

It was almost three in the morning and Marius Bordeaux sat in his study, pouring over the reports of the explosion. Lots of broken glass, some minor damage from the falling debris, cuts and bruises from panicked individuals, but not a single fatality.

Just what in hell's fire and brimstone was going on?

He knew, but he didn't want to believe it. Could things have really been drawn out to this point? Could he have really let it get this far?

And on an entirely separate note, could his security get any more lax?

Sighing, he lifted his weight from the chair, he wasn't an overweight or out of shape man, but tonight he felt as if a thousand bricks were hanging off of him. Pouring himself a bourbon, he headed over to the balcony, unlocking the glass door before heading out into the cool night air.

"Never did figure out how you kept getting past the forward security perimeters," he grumbled, sipping at the drink.

A shadow detached from the wall, "Told Bella I'd keep it a secret, I keep my word."

Marius turned to his ex-son-in-law, old angers rising to the surface but calmed by time. His beautiful Bella died ten years ago, it took him awhile to get over that, but like hell he was going to let this… thief, ruin what little peace he had left.

"What do you want, LeBeau?" he asked harshly.

"Information," the man said evenly, "I want to know where Julien is."

"Julien's dead," the assassin spat back, trying to hold back the anger, "you gutted him, remember."

"He fell on his sword for his cause," LeBeau shot back tightly, "you know dat."

Glaring at the thief, Marius didn't need to be reminded of such a fact. Turning his back to LeBeau, the assassin stepped farther out onto the balcony, drowning his drink and slamming it on the balustrade. Eventually his anger gave into resignation, "He was always a troubled lad."

"Ambitious," LeBeau corrected him, his voice returning to neutrality, "he never wanted peace between da guilds, he wanted control of all da resources, to make himself… Death, Destroyer of Worlds."

The Assassin's Patriarch wanted to argue but in his heart he couldn't. "As I said… troubled."

Silence passed between the two men before LeBeau asked, "How did he survive? Dere was no way he could get to a hospital in time, not where dat sword stabbed him, da blood he was losing."

"You don't have to explain the fatality of wounds to me, thief," Marius barked, drawing nesting birds to awaken and scatter.

"I saw Julien," LeBeau's voice went cold, "it was him, alive and as bastardly as ever. He planted dat bomb, but I think you knew dat already."

Marius stared into his empty glass, wishing he had thought to bring the bottle out with him. "Da Guild had nothing to do with dat."

"Didn't say it did," there was almost a note of sympathy there. "He's worse dan I've ever known him, you have to see dat."

He saw, he knew, but, "He's my son…" the words felt like coal on his tongue. "Six months after his 'death' he revealed he was still alive, there was a mutant, could hold off death..."

_Julien fell to the ground, all Remy saw was Bella rushing over him, but the man who checked Julien's pulse mere seconds later… his eyes, white, empty… a yellow hum at the tips of his fingers…_

"Course," Marius continued, "a doctor was paid off to say he died and with da death of Bella mere days later… I didn't pay as much attention to da details as I should have, especially when he came back."

"He planned all dis," the thief's voice went back to even, cold, "made sure da truce was tenuous, kept everything by a thread until he was ready to make his move. Took him a decade, but assassins and thieves… we're creatures of infinite patience."

"Dat we are," it was the one thing he would ever agree on with the man.

True to that note, both men stood quietly, waiting for the other to make the next move. They would be there till the sun came up, they were stubborn enough.

"I told you," Marius was getting too old for all this, "he's still my son. I won't tell you were he is so you can go enact your revenge."

LeBeau was quiet, forming his counter-argument. Marius was ready for everything the man could say, except what actually came out of his mouth, "Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left."

The Patriarch stood stock still, the words meant something to him but, "How…?"

"Many things about da night Bella died never sat well with me," finally some real emotion broke LeBeau's voice, "Love is a funny thing, and as much as I'd wish she would have, she'd never give up being an assassin, not even for me, and I let myself be okay with dat. Not like I could give up being a thief."

"She was good at what she did," Marius added sadly, just one of the many reasons he missed his Bella Donna.

"So why did she abandon da Guild dat night?" LeBeau said harshly, "Turn her back on her family? I wanted to believe it was for me, for us, but dat wasn't Bella," the man paused, taking in hard shallow breaths, covering his sorrow and anger, "I figure dere be only two reasons, either she was set up… or dere was something dat frightened her enough to want to leave, and Bella, she wasn't frightened of anything."

Everything came together, "Except Julien."

"Aye," there was no pleasure in his voice, "Bella told me how she loved her brother, he was her kin, but she also worried dat if Julien took over da Guild, dat it would mean da end of everything. She would fight him any way she could once you retired or passed on."

"Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left," Marius repeated the words, his heart sinking as he did so. "Julien always shot for the Jueyin Meridian on a target," every section of the body was separated into Meridian's, each had their own weaknesses, fatality rates, and length till death, "and he always favored the left, never could hit center on dat Meridian."

"Bella knew," LeBeau finally stepped completely out of the shadows, his face tight with anger, "'Jueyin Meridian, always favoring the left' was her dying words. She knew it was Julien who shot her, she was running from her own brother."

Marius stumbled back against the balustrade, the weight of the man's words holding heavy. "You could be lying to me."

"Perhaps," the thief admitted, jaw tight, "but neither of us could find her killer, because we were looking for a dead man. Four days, enough time for him to heal, especially if a mutant was involved."

His words were a whisper, "He murdered his own sister…"

"He thought I corrupted her," sadness seeped in, "we both wanted to keep da peace."

The Assassin's Patriarch turned away from his ex-son-in-law, staring out over the lawn into the darkness. "He's still my son…"

The thief took one step forward, "He lost dat right da moment he shot Bella."

Marius took several long breaths, trying to reconcile all this new information.

"Assassins do not kill dere own," LeBeau added, digging the knife deeper. "Not inside dere Guild House, even if dey deserve it."

"Don't quote Guild law to me," he bit back, though with less venom than he thought there would be.

"Marius," LeBeau walked within striking distance, but made no indication he wanted to fight, "you know what has to be done now."

The assassin turned his head to stare at the man he had begrudgingly taken into his family. He had thought it a mistake then but now it was a non-issue. Events still would have unfolded badly if Marius had attempted peace in any way, any shape. This thief and his daughter was simply caught in the middle of it.

"You really did love Bella," the father in him never thought to ask this before.

"Yes," he tried to keep his voice even but the pain was there, "I did."

There was no mistaking what the young man was going to do once he found her murderer.

"Tell me," LeBeau continued, his words between a request and a demand, "where's Julien."

Marius turned towards the thief, knowing he had no choice now, he knew what had to be done.

…

_Home of Robert Lord_

It was daylight now, he'd managed to get a couple hours of sleep, enough to keep him going through what was to happen next. He stepped out of his bedroom, the room that was to be his and Bella's, and attempted to leave everything that could have been behind. He'd carried it all with him for far too long, and now, one way or another, it was going to be over.

Checking his pockets he had five decks of backup playing cards, two decks already up his sleeves. Bo staff in proper working order, he was ready for the fight of his life.

"Nah, yah don't have ta go overboard," he heard Rogue's voice as she spoke on the phone from her room, "simple is best."

Walking to the stairs he could see her now through the open doorway, staring out a window as she spoke. She was dressed like the first time he met her in Baghdad, brown boots, a darker shade than her kaki pants, with a hunter green turtle neck poking out from her tight leather jacket. He knew about her mutation when he first laid eyes on her and he thought it a damn shame, but then the more enticing the rose, the sharper the thorn.

If anything happened to her because of him he'd never forgive himself… but at the same time, the woman could take care of herself and he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather have at his back right now. It was a dichotomy of emotions that had swirled around his head since the moment she grabbed Shiro's laptop and put herself in real danger for him. Fighting Yakuza was one thing, she was trained by some of the best and invulnerable, but fighting against the psyches locked up in her head, now that was something else entirely.

She laughed at the person on the phone, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head.

A small smile tugged at his lips, this is how he wanted to remember her, if everything went horribly wrong and there was a better than even chance that it would.

Without a word he quietly descended the stairs, pausing only briefly at the front door. Taking one long deep breath, this was it.

Today is when it all ended, one way or another.

…

"Hey, you're already in tha area _and_ yah owe me," Rogue said into the phone. "I saved yah skinny butt at tha Vault, remember."

"You wouldn't have had to if your boyfriend hadn't tripped the alarm," Pyro grumbled like a pouty younger brother.

Rogue laughed at the ridiculousness of his words, "He's _not_ my boyfriend, and that was business, this is personal, he needs my help."

"You're _so_ getting played," his continued sulking was more than amusing.

She couldn't help but grin, "Maybe I _like_ tha game, ever think of that?"

There was the distinctive sound of a door opening and closing.

"One sec," she told the Australian as she stepped out into the hallway, staring over the balcony at the front door. Raising her voice, "Gambit?"

"Something wrong?" Pyro asked.

"It's Gambit," she told him, "he's already left…"


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: ** Thank you again for the wonderful reviews! I'm a feedback junkie, I admit it! I won't be getting much editing done the next few days on account of it being Avengers weekend, so hopefully this will tide you over till next week!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One<strong>

_New Orleans Shipyards_

When an outsider thought of New Orleans, it usually brought forth images of Cajun and Creole food, Mardi Gras, beautiful architecture and all the different meanings of _The Big Easy_. What often didn't come to mind was the fact that the city was a major ship building and repair center for the US Navy and the fleet of fisherman who scoured the Gulf for shell fish.

Along the coast several dry docks were dotted next to the import/export areas where cargo ships transferred their loads. Sat a little father back, large metal buildings held ship parts being built or repaired before going out to the dock. One of these massive buildings had been repurposed as a base of operations, a great hiding place with access to easy international transport.

Somewhere inside the main structure, Julien Boudreaux sat, likely waiting for Remy Lebeau's 'scheduled' appearance.

Best not keep the man waiting.

…

The guards had been put on high alert after the incident the night before at the Presbytere. Amazingly no one died as planned, a flying mutant lifting the bomb high into the atmosphere to 'save the day'. Boy, how the boss had been pissed about that.

Oh well, being unsure when LeBeau would make his appearance in New Orleans, several plans had been made. If the mutant didn't show up at the party then today's hints would have lead to a particular Marti Gras Day float. If LeBeau didn't show, then something was planned for the next day, and so forth.

But now the soviet missiles were used up, which the crew was thankful for, none of them liked having the bunker busting bombs around.

"Hey, Troy," a fellow guard called over to him as Troy leaned against one of the gates, "got any cigs, fresh out."

Troy rolled his eyes, Ricky was always fresh out of cigs, "Yeah, yeah," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of Marlboros.

"Lifesaver," Ricky took one of the cigarettes and lit it up, cupping his hands around his mouth to keep the wind from knocking out his lighter.

"Hear anything about today's plan?" Troy asked as he pulled out a cigarette for himself, the smoke from Ricky's wafting towards him, giving him a craving.

"Something about blowing up a parade float," Ricky shrugged, letting in a long drag.

"I know dat much," Troy managed to light his and relished in the burning sensation as the smoke filled his lungs and warmed him up. "You know what float, how dey gonna blow it?"

Ricky shrugged, flicking off some ash, "Dey don't tell me a damned thing."

"Join da club," Troy put the pack in his pocket before Ricky got an idea to ask for another cig to go. "You believe all da talk though, dat dis is all about framing some mutie?"

"Mutants, bah," Ricky took another drag and puffed out smoke, "bunch of ol' wives tales and nonsense."

"Nonsense?" the cig almost fell from Troy's mouth, "What part of dat flying woman launching dose missiles into space did you not get?"

Ricky let out a snort, "Did you see it happen?"

"Well, no," he was on guard duty here at the docks.

"Dere video of it?" his friend asked, taking a last drag of the spent cigarette.

"Not dat I know of," Troy admitted.

"People make up crazy shit all da time," Ricky tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and squashed it with his boot. "I'll believe in mutants when I see it."

There was a whizzing sound and both men looked down as something struck the dirt. An Ace of Spades was sticking neatly out of the tightly packed Earth and before they could register what it was and why it was there, the paper exploded sending dust and rock up into their faces.

Shielding his eyes with one hand Troy stumbled back against the guard house, bringing his gun to bear with the other. Something solid and metal smacked against his wrist and he dropped the weapon. Daring to look at his attacker to try to get a punch in, two red eyes stunned him and then all went dark as a staff struck against his head.

…

"Just received dis from our contacts in da government," Phillip, Julien's second in command, placed a rather thick file in front of him as he sat at his desk on the enclosed mezzanine of the main building. "Dey only have her mutant code-name, Rogue, and no back history before age thirteen."

Julien flipped open the file and found several surveillance photos of the woman with the white stripe. Almost a ream of paper was filled with the various activities she was suspected to have been involved in. Many were classified as acts of terrorism which didn't surprise the assassin. The Brotherhood of Mutants had made it very clear that they believed in the supremacy of mutants over humans.

Once Julian solidified his control over the entire Assassin network he would have to deal with what was left of the Brotherhood group, it wouldn't be easy but he had plans, up to an including working with several government agencies to make sure Magneto and his brood would never see him coming.

"She can't touch someone without draining their life force?" the fact surprised him when he came across it at the beginning of the report. So, LeBeau was running around with a beautiful virgin whom he had absolutely no chance of deflowering. Julien grinned, it had to be torture for the womanizing playboy. "And she borrows da other mutant's memories and powers, dat would come in handy."

"If we can capture her alive," his second added, "den she'd fetch a pretty price. A few black ops government groups would be interested, certainly Essex. There could even be a bidding war over her."

"Yes, but he's obviously been paying her to help him," Julien rubbed his chin, taking all this new information into consideration, "and after last night he's probably terminated da contract meaning she'll be long gone now."

"You think so?" Phillip asked, taking the file back as Julien was finished with it for now.

"LeBeau is smart but also very predictable," the assassin waved the man off, "by now he's figured out I was da one who killed Bella, dis will have enraged him. He'll want to settle dis personally."

"Are you sure?" the man questioned.

Julien allowed himself a self-satisfied chuckle, "Da man has a soft spot for family, you poke him dere and it's like a bull seeing red. It's gotten him into more trouble dan anything else in his life. Dat's why he's such a great thief. Stealing is impersonal to him, a rush, I'm sure, but he can maintain his distance. Get someone he loves involved and his reason goes right out da proverbial window."

"You seem confident of your psychological assessment," Phillip said warily, but then Julien wouldn't have picked a second in command who didn't cover all angles and considerations.

"LeBeau dated my sister for many years," Julien waved him off, "he and his kin were a bane to da Guild, I made it my business to know everything I could about dem."

"Still," Phillip said slowly, "ten years is a long time."

"And in all dat time, LeBeau has acted da nomad," Julien pulled over a few of the many files from various government agencies, all detailing as much information as each had on Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, aka _Le Diable Blanc_]. "He's not had a single steady address, simply floated from job to job. I know for a fact dat both Xavier and Magneto have offered him positions in deir groups yet he continues to wander. He's left a string of lovers in his wake, never sticking with one more than a couple of days. With his looks and resources he could have any woman he wants and retire to a life of ease and yet he does not, why is dat?"

"He enjoys da thrill of the playboy-thief life?" the man suggested.

"If dat was da case he wouldn't turn down some of da jobs, and women, dat he has," Julien tapped his fingers against the various surveillance photos. "No, he's a man in pain trying to numb da wound. Now it's been torn open and he has to deal with it. But he's a loner with his brother dead and a family just as hell-bent on revenge as he is. A fire has been lit under da kettle, now we wait for da water to boil over."

"Well," the second shrugged, finally giving in, "everything is in place, if and when he comes after you, we'll be ready as instructed."

"I'm sure it won't be long now," Julien leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together.

Phillip cleared his throat, "As a precaution I have put extra spotters out to watch for da flying mutant, just in case."

Julien took a second to consider this change, then shrugged, "Doesn't hurt to be prepared, who knows, da man may end up surprising me by bringing his untouchable fille along."

"My thoughts exactly," Phillip nodded his head.

A howling screech pierced the air and neither man reacted to the alarm except for a small upturn of their face towards the noise.

Julien grinned, "Didn't waste any time, did you, LeBeau."

…

Why do stealthy when stylish is so much more… stylish?

Gambit drove his staff into the ground and let the kinetic energy funnel through the shaft into the gravel causing the Earth to ripple and buckle. This sent several down to the ground and he thwacked many more with his Bo as he made his way forward towards his objective.

Cards went spinning through the air, taking out at least two cameras and three guards. Another suit laid waste to a group of men who tried to come at him from the left. A perfectly aimed Three of Clubs and Seven of Diamonds blew open the door of the main building, Gambit knocking down a guard with a sweep of his staff.

Rushing inside, the thief immediately dodged to the right as gun fire rang out. A distraction of four cards were sent in the general direction of the shooters and Gambit jumped up on top of a wrapped pallet. He could see the main office entrance on the second floor, a small gallery with a metal stairway leading down to the ground.

Flipping off the pallet, Gambit tossed several charged cards and made his way across the open area… which really wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Guards in full flack armor rushed in from every entrance, down catwalks that lined the sides of the building, and from behind the large equipment sat to the back. Gambit glanced down at his body which was now swarming with little red dots ala laser pointers. At a quick glance, he could count about twenty three… really, only twenty three?

He didn't know if he should be amused or insulted.

…

"Looks like he's going the direct route," Phillip gestured to the surveillance, picking up a walkie talkie from the desk, checking the frequency, "Containment squad to the main building, positions beta."

Julien watched the video feed as Gambit recklessly tore his way through the complex, knocking down the guards as he went. The Assassin was smart enough to admit that the thief was an exceptionally good fighter, better than himself. This was why he had to cheat during their little duel ten years ago.

Getting Bella Donna out onto the docks that night hadn't been easy either, but he knew how to manipulate his little sister, especially since she thought he was dead. The second shot was supposed to kill LeBeau as well but the man moved and Julien was feeling the pain of the recoil too much against his sore body to react as fast as he should have. Still, the end result was satisfactory enough and he used it to his advantage.

All his plans where coming together nicely.

"He's breeched the building," his second said, gesturing to another monitor, then into the talkie, "containment squad, on my word."

"Wait until he's farther from an exit," Julien grinned in anticipation, waiting for LeBeau to make his rush towards the stairwell.

"Now," Phillip spoke into the radio as soon as LeBeau made a break for it.

Fifty plus guards in two waves flooded into the building from their pre-determined entry points. Each was decked out in flack gear 'acquired' from the military, able to protect the men from at least one or two of LeBeau's concussion blasts. Within seconds the thief was surrounded, trapped like a caged animal.

"Perfect," Julien, rather pleased with the outcome, walked to the door of his office which opened up onto a small gallery leading to the stairs.

Despite the fact that LeBeau was surrounded with heavily armed men, and the thief would never resort to any kind of hand gun, Julien felt it prudent to stay as far away from the mutant as possible. His men had orders to shoot if they saw the man even attempt to throw a card, but one was never too careful around Remy LeBeau.

"Let's settle dis like gentleman, Julien," LeBeau shouted up at him.

"Tried dat once, LeBeau," Julien snickered, "didn't end well for me if I remember correctly."

"I dunno," the thief looked around slowly, "you seemed to have come out of it alright."

"Yes," Julien said slowly, "I should have killed you dat night on da docks, but dis is much more satisfying."

"What, watching others do your dirty work?" he eyed the red dots glowing against his chest.

Julien chuckled, wondering just how much he could taunt LeBeau before the mutant got himself shot for doing something stupid. "Alive, dead, doesn't matter to me, I'll still be able to use you to strike a war between da Guilds. A conveniently placed body is all I need."

"You and your 'war between da Guilds' shtick," LeBeau shook his head and laughed, "doesn't dat get old?"

"It will only be da beginning, LeBeau," Julien sneered.

"Oh, right, den comes control of da Assassins network, footholds in da major governments, even got the head of the Senate Military Oversight Committee on your payroll which was a smart move I admit," LeBeau acted as if he was reciting a grocery list. "Now, getting da mafia's and cartels to work for you, tricky, but placing your cronies in high level security positions will help. You know, it's a big complicated game of chess you've gotten set up for yourself dere Julien, I must say I'm mighty impressed."

The assassin frowned, how did LeBeau…? "I suppose you think I should be scared now, thief, because you've been able to guess at just a few pieces on da game board?"

"Nah," LeBeau shrugged, a small smile on his lips, "I didn't think a man like you'd be fazed by dat, but dese next words, now, dey should do da trick and get your hair standing on end."

Julien practically snarled, "And what could you possible say LeBeau dat will convince me you're not bluffing out your ass?"

The other man grinned, red eyes twinkling, "Julien, I once said you could call me whatever insult you could imagine, even asked you to get more creative, but one thing you may never _ever_ call me… is predictable."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** Avengers was awesome, seen it twice already! Definitely recommend it! And now I want to write an Avengers/Romy crossover fic… darn that muse! Question: If Rogue absorbed Thor, would she be able to use Mjolnir? Only 'he who is worthy' can pick up the hammer, but if she absorbed Thor, would she gain his 'worthiness' or do you think she'd be worthy anyway? I'm asking for… no reason… erm… hehehehehehehe

Once again, thanks every so much for all the wonderful reviews, you guys rock! :D

Oh, and here is an interesting fact about me: Every story I write has that one chapter which writes itself, totally ignoring me as the writer. It just runs away and does whatever it damn well pleases. This was that chapter… I hope you like!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>

_Shipyards_

Julien stared down at his would-be brother-in-law and couldn't help the chill that ran up his spin at the man's words. It wasn't so much what he said but how he said it. Of course LeBeau was predictable, he was here, wasn't he?

"Come on, Julien," LeBeau was smirking now, "you really think it would have taken me three weeks to plan a break-in of da Catherine Vault?"

"I'm surprised you hadn't broken in before," he answered dryly.

"Actually, I have, twice, but I don't brag, otherwise da Vault Keepers will add even more security and dat's not good for moi," the thief was looking entirely too at ease and confident as he stood surrounded by men ready to kill him at a moment's notice. "So, you might ask, what was I doing all dat time?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me," Julien pursed his lips together in thought, "if I don't decide to kill you first."

"Henri figured out most of what you were up to," LeBeau continued talking, ignoring Julien's comment. "Course, he didn't know it was you in particular, but he had his suspicions dat da Assassin's Guild was somehow involved but not directly behind it. He brought all dat information with him to London."

_Remy slipped his brother's hotel key off his body before he went after the assassin…_

_In Henri's hotel room, Remy went through every hiding space he could think of. Eventually he pulled up the bottom of the cabinet under the sink, a large packet hidden with the grungy pipes…_

_Bottle of whisky in hand, Remy read through each page slowly, methodically, fingers tracing his brother's notes in the corners…_

"I covered my tracks fairly well," Julien was sure of it, "had Henri gotten too close, I would have known."

"Which is why he needed moi, of course," the thief addressed the guards, as if he was telling a story to a group of kids, "but I figured I had to be being watched now so I asked a _buddy_ of mine to do some _discrete_ investigating."

_A man went flying across the room, smacking the wall and landing on a juke box. Another found himself laid out on the pool table. _

"_And you call yourselves assassin's," the intimidating figure of Wolverine stood amongst the bodies of twenty plus men, all unconscious._

_Glancing around and realizing he was going to have to wait, the mutant walked over to the bar and sat on a stool. Gesturing to the barkeep, he laid a Canadian twenty dollar on the bar. "Beer, Molson will do." _

_The elderly man hesitated but grabbed one of the beers from the coolers and popped the cap off before sliding it over. "You said you were only looking for information."_

"_I was," Logan grunted, taking a swig of the beer, "they started the fight. Now I gotta wait for one of these jokers to wake up."_

"_Just what kind of information you looking for?" the barkeep asked, pouring himself a scotch. _

_Logan eyed the man, giving a sniff, "Why, you know something worth telling?"_

"_Used to be in the trade myself before injury laid me out, why do you think the Vancouver Assassin's Guild hangs out here?" he downed a glass of the amber liquid. "Your inquires have anything to do with the rumors of a hostile takeover of the Guild?"_

"_Might do," Logan took another sip of his beer, "why don't you share with me what you know and I'll pay for the damage these yokels did to your bar."_

"_Sounds reasonable…" the barkeep poured another round. "The Guild is family, and no one messes with family."_

"_Know what you mean, bub."_

"Now, I use the term 'buddy' loosely," LeBeau chuckled, "and it cost me my bike, but I figure I'll be getting dat back soon enough."

"First I've heard of this," Julien found the man's story skeptical.

"Like da Canadians are gonna admit to da Cajuns dey got in an ass-kicking contest with one man and lost?" the thief rolled his eyes, smirking at some of the guards who seemed to also be unable to control their snickering. "Still, dis only helped to lay out what da grand plan was, not who was behind it. Figured it was someone in da Guild, maybe even Marius, but I had to know for sure before I came back. All I needed to do was trace Henri's murder to da one who hired da Russian, so first stop, da Vault."

_Gambit laid down a four pair of Jacks, grinning as he won the hand and took the pot, a couple of chips and a Three of Hearts with a code written on it._

"_Won't do you any good, LeBeau," the loser said distastefully, "you'll never be able to get close enough to that section of the vault to use it."_

"_It's da thought dat counts, mon ami," he winked, slipping it into his breast pocket, "and with dat, Remy will be taking his leave. Bonsoir, gentlemen."_

_Gambit excused himself and headed towards the exit, only to be distracted by the sight of Dominikos at one of the other tables in the room. Now, why would the Greek Avalanche be in St. Petersburg on his own? _

"_Mind if I take dis seat," Gambit said cheerfully as he slipped into one of the vacant chairs at the table._

"_Gambit," Avalanche practically growled, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't bring the building down on top of you right now?"_

"_And ruin da beautiful architecture?" Gambit tsked, "I'm just here to play, mon ami," he pulled out a wad of Rubles and passed them over to the dealer in exchange for chips._

"_I'm not your friend," the man said and did the ground shift just a little?_

"_Oui, I am your adversary," the thief replied conspiratorially, "here to win all your Rubles from you."_

"_You're a cheating bastard, Gambit," Avalanche wasn't amused._

"_Non," he corrected, "I simply make use of everything that is available to me. It'll be a clean game, I promise."_

"I tell you, da Brotherhood, when dey get dere act together, dey are a force to be reckoned with," LeBeau said appreciatively with a bit of a chuckle, Julien was beginning to utterly despise the sound.

"Sir," Philip said beside him, "why is he still talking?"

"Because," the thief answered first, "your boss wants to know just how far I got, isn't dat so Julien?"

"Mild curiosity," Julien said drolly. "You knew dis was a suicide run, LeBeau, so it stands to reason you were gonna make it worth it."

"You know me so well, Julien," there was both sarcasm and spite in the words, "including getting my friend Jacob to send the contract to Tokyo, guaranteeing I would trace everything back to N'Orlean, straight to your doorstep."

"Was I wrong?" it was the assassin's turn to smirk.

"Non, I suppose not," LeBeau frowned, but then shrugged, "of course, once I got here, I went straight to work on da problem."

_Gambit followed Claude down to the training levels after leaving Rogue and Mercy. _

"_Remy," Emil said, taking the man's hand and clasping his shoulder, "you shouldn't have come back, but it's good to see you."_

"_And you, Emil," Gambit smiled at his old friend, "I hear you've become a regular Houdini."_

"_Well, I try," the red-headed man laughed._

"_He's very trying," Claude rolled his eyes. "Now, Emil, we're wondering if you came across any local bagmen, close cropped blonde hair, cracked tooth, very non-descript."_

"_Nothing pops to mind," Emil shook his head._

"_Dat's okay," Gambit pulled a sheet of paper from his trench, "I have something else I need you to look into for me instead."_

_He passed over the paper and the two thieves took a moment to read it before Claude said, "You want us to break into all dese places?"_

"_Before da end of da night if you would," Gambit said nonchalantly. "Da Journeyman thieves could pull dis off, in fact, use dem, hide da break-ins among deir usual training exercises."_

_Emil rubbed his chin, "We'd have to run dis by Mercy."_

"_Non," Gambit quickly said, "leave her out of dis for now, plausible deniability."_

_The two thieves looked at each other for a moment before nodding in agreement._

"_Chase," Emil called over to one of the boys, a seventeen year old with short black hair, "how'd you like to break into the state police headquarters during lunch-time?"_

"_Again?" he asked warily. _

"You see, Julien," LeBeau was smiling, "while you were busy watching for me, I had thieves all over da city pulling what seemed like useless information, but instead, I was figuring out who all da pawns were. Who was bankrolling you, who would support your cause. And I managed to stumble across something very interesting…"

_Gambit was attempting to get his cufflink on when Emil and Chase came into the outer suite. "Remy, you won't believe what we found."_

"_I'll believe it after you tell me," he managed to clasp the cufflink and started working on the other. He really hated tuxedos but damn did he fill one out handsomely, not that he wasn't being modest, of course._

"_We found dis in one of da files we copied from da mole in da state police," Emil passed over a file._

_Gambit quickly scanned it, Claude peeking over his shoulder in his chauffer garb. At first LeBeau betrayed no emotion, then he got a little twinkle in his eyes. "Easily taken care of."_

_Pulling his phone out of his pocket he dialed a number and hoped it was still active._

"_Gambit!" a voice came over the line, "How the bloody hell are ya?"_

"_I'm good, Wade, thanks for asking," Gambit tried to hide a grin. "Listen, I hear you got put on a standby job to take out some high-ups in the NSA and FBI."_

"_Did ya now? Hhhmmm… sounds like something I'd do. Wait a second," there was the sound of a sword being sheathed and then two gun shots rang out._

_Gambit frowned, "Do I want to know what dat was about?"_

"_Yes, wait, probably not… eh, it's a toss up." Wade seemed to fumble with his phone, "Let me check my diary here… yep, down payment has been made. Three targets. Soon as I get the word, they gonna be deader than a yankee noodle dandy on Wednesday. Yay me!"_

"_Dat doesn't make any sense-nevermind," Gambit shook his head. "I have it on good authority dat dose guys are enemies of my enemy—"_

"_Which makes them your friend!" Wade said cheerfully, "I like this game. Give me another one."_

"_I was hoping dat I could pay you off," the thief said dryly. "Fifteen percent over da full contract price."_

"_Dunno, Gambit," the man seemed to consider it for a second, "that's the same price I give you to pay me off when someone hires me to kill you. And I don't even _know_ these others guys. How do I know if I even like them? I mean, they could real squares, into things like opera and doing taxes. They might even drive Five-Star Safety-Rating Mini-Vans!"_

"_Thirty percent," Gambit offered._

"_Deal."_

"Wait," Phillip's jaw dropped, "you paid off _DEADPOOL_?"

"Oui," the thief shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Every now and again someone has da idea to get revenge on me by sending da world's best assassin after me, non-guilded I might add. I have a Swiss bank account dedicated to paying him off when dat happens."

"I bet it happens quite a bit," Julien said dryly.

"About as often as I expect," LeBeau shrugged again.

"Doesn't matter anyway," the assassin waved him off, "once you're dead you can't pay him off again, or maybe I'll just send some proper Assassin's to do da work, ones who actually live by a code."

"Oh, Wade lives by a code," the man chuckled, "but hell if anyone else can figure out his twisted logic."

Julien shook his head, "Anything else I should know about, LeBeau?"

"Now dat you mention it," the thief smiled, "All dat information I had gathered yesterday will be shortly finding its way into da hands of those who can do something about it, reporters, non-corrupt cops, etc."

"Scandal can be worked around," the assassin wasn't going to be perturbed.

"Oh," the mutant said as if he had just remembered something, "and I wouldn't be expecting to rely on dat Senator to help you cover up all dat military funding you've been siphoning off, as well as dat stolen military equipment."

"Is dat so?" Julien said coldly.

"Oui," LeBeau grinned, "you could say a friend of a friend is taking care of it as we speak."

_Senator Johnston walked into his office at the Capitol building with his aid at his side. He noticed his secretary wasn't in the outer office as usual but figured she was probably on a coffee break._

"_Call Senator Perkins," Johnston said as he opened the door into his main office, "tell him we'll have to move lunch to next week."_

"_Maybe later than that, mate," a voice said and the two men looked up to see his secretary sitting stiffly in one of the chairs, a red haired man behind his desk at the computer, and a white haired one leaning up against the bookcase reading a large, bound volume._

"_Who are you?" Johnston immediately shouted, "What are you doing here?"_

"_Uh, hacking into your computer," the red head shook his head as if it had been a dumb question. "Name's Pyro by the way, and this here's QuickSilver."_

_The assistant had been slowly pulling out his phone to dial 911 but the one named QuickSilver literally circled them in a flash, snatching away all their electronic devices and shutting the door behind them with a click of a the lock before returning to where he was standing, book and all._

"_Like I told the sheila here," Pyro continued to tap at the keys, "we're not interested in hurting anyone, physically anyway, just need to upload all this stuff and we'll be off."_

"_Upload?" Johnston trembled, he had heard of mutants due to his position in the Military Oversight Committee, but not seen one up close._

"_See, it's like this," the Australian didn't even look at the screen as he worked, fingers busily tapping away, "there's this friend of mine, more of a sister really, and she's been hanging around with this guy who totally doesn't deserve her, I mean, she's way out of his league."_

"_Agreed," QuickSilver added._

"_But she's all 'I want to help him' and 'you owe me for saving your life', blah, blah, so what can you do?" Pyro shrugged and glanced over at his friend. "QuickSilver just came along because he likes to rifle through politician's offices."_

"_You find the most interesting reading material," he gestured with the volume in his hand, "take this fiscal policy here. And they call _us_ the terrorists. Seriously?"_

"_And that should do it," Pyro said with a final tap on the keyboard._

"_Do what?" Johnston asked, "What did you upload onto my computer?"_

"_It's not what I uploaded onto _your_ computer," the red head grinned, "but what I downloaded from your computer and uploaded onto three major newspapers and CNN's main servers."_

_Johnston's face went pale. "You didn't…"_

"_I think I just said I did, didn't I, QuickSilver?"_

"_Pretty sure you did…" the mutant nodded._

"_Yeah," Pyro almost sounded sympathetic, "all those double dealings, blackmailing, illegal transportations past customs, affair with your last assistant, it's all happily sitting there, waiting for the first reporter to notice it. Shouldn't take long."_

"_Of course, there is the fact checking delay," the other man said, "they'll want to confirm some details before they publish anything, so that does give the Senator here some lead time."_

"_Should be enough to get to a non-extraditing country," the red head agreed with a nod then addressed Johnston. "I'd get packing now if I were you, mate."_

_A petrified Johnston ran to the door, fumbling with the lock before rushing out. The aid and the secretary continued to be stunned at the strange turn of events._

"_Now," Pyro got up and came around the desk, "what were we talking about before we were interrupted?"_

"_Oh yeah," QuickSilver tossed the volume on the side table and started to walk out with his friend, "I was telling you, setting everything on fire is not a contingency plan."_

LeBeau chuckled, again, the sound defiantly grating on Julien's ears, "To be honest, I wasn't gonna deal with dat loose end until later, but I like da idea of everything being taken care of in a nice, neat package all in one go."

"Figures you'd be partial to going out with a bang, LeBeau," Julien finally had enough of this. "Doesn't matter, none of it matters. Though you might delay the rest of my plans, you'll still be dead, your precious Guild will be gone in a matter of days. You haven't stopped me one bit."

"You sure about dat, Julien?" LeBeau asked in all seriousness.

"Very sure, LeBeau," the assassin said coldly. "Why, do you have one more 'ace up your sleeve', some other plan to take me out even while you lay dead?"

"Maybe," the thief smirked as if he was thinking of an inside joke before turning thoughtful. "You know, Julien, seeing you last night, dat threw me, I admit it. Da great Remy LeBeau was at a loss. Knowing dat you were da one who killed Henri _and_ Bella, dat made it all da worse. I wanted nothing more dan to strangle you with my bare hands."

Julien grinned at his victory, "Doesn't look like you'll be getting dat chance, LeBeau."

"No, no I won't," he sighed, lowering his head for a second then looking back up him, a small upturn on his lips, "cause I had a contingency plan."

_Rogue stumbled against the wall and caught herself, driving back the voices that had emerged after telling Gambit her story. Straightening up she took two more steps towards her room when the thief's door flew open behind her._

"_Rogue," he called out to her._

"_Gambit?" she asked, turning towards him._

"_You said when you absorbed me," he walked up to her, barely a hand width between them, "you didn't get all my memories."_

"_Yeah, I wasn't looking for anything in particular," she shrugged, "so it was a grab bag, mostly of Henri's death and the King of Hearts."_

"_Then you don't know what I was planning," he said quietly._

"_No," she furrowed her brow, "what were you planning?"_

_A grin appeared on his lips, "You're gonna love dis."_

"What are you going on about, LeBeau?" Julien glanced around warily. "What contingency plan?"

"Something I improvised," the thief was grinning ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat. "Haven't you figured it out yet Julien?"

"Figured out what?" he almost shouted.

If possible, LeBeau's grin became broader, even a tad bit evil, "I'm da distraction."

Just as the words registered to the assassin, everything blew up and all hell broke loose…


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** Awesome reviews, love you guys! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! We still have a ways to go for our heroes! ;-)

Jadeoblue, thanks for the info about Thor and Rogue! :D I've come to realize I'm way too behind on my comic reading! Gah!

Chiwetel Ejiofor as Gris Gris (minus the dreadlocks, cause, seriously, dreadlocks?)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three<strong>

_St. Louis Cathedral – Four Hours Earlier_

Mercy stood next to her Patriarch, staring down at a blueprint of Julien's complex which was recently liberated by Claude from a dank office in the City Planning Office. It was laid out on a table on the dais, the position giving the thieves a clear view of the Cathedral's aisle and entrance.

The doors opened and six assassins took up flanking positions, no weapons drawn, this was neutral territory after all. Thieves and Assassins could and would do many things, but they'd never piss off the clergy. It just wasn't done, not to mention how terribly impolite it would be.

She watched as the Assassin Patriarch, Marius, entered with his right hand man, Gris Gris, at his side.

No one spoke until Marius was at the dais himself, his eyes glancing down at the map. "And what do thieves know of battle, hhm?"

"Dey know plenty," Gris Gris, a handsome black man with strength on his powerful frame, grinned, "dey know how to scurry away like da rats dey are at da first sign of trouble."

"A great thief never gives you a reason to hunt dem," John-Luc shot back easily, "doesn't mean we don't know how to defend ourselves."

"Is dat what dis is?" Marius gestured all around.

"Dis is what we are lead to," John-Luc said coldly, "we've been complacent for too long. Your son has gone too far, he'd see us _both_ dead, you know dat."

Marius narrowed his eyes at his enemy and Mercy had to wonder if there wasn't also a friendship between them, born of the strange kinship they had as heirs and Patriarchs. Eventually, the elder assassin's eyes softened, "Yesterday, I'd threaten you at your words. Today, I am merely saddened by dem."

"Everything dat ever was," the Patriarch Thief sighed heavily, "let it end today. We cannot continue as we were before. Da old ways are truly dead, why should we continue to cling to dem?"

"We tried dis once before," Marius offered with minimal strife, "to bring about a new order, we both lost something important to us dat day."

Mercy glanced around, she could see the unease between thief and assassin, the glares and animosity that no one bothered to hide. "Da past is a lesson, one which we apparently are slow to learn," she spoke out of turn. "Julien is a threat to both our families. I know he is, was, one of yours, but we can't let him finish what he started ten years ago."

"Perhaps we could?" Gris Gris offered and Marius looked over at him curiously. "Julien's hatred had always been for da thieves, perhaps we can let him burn dem to da ground, once dey are gone, he will leave his family, his true family, alone."

Mercy shook her head, "After all dis time do you really think he has any intention of allowing such dangerous men to run free? Because dat is what you are to him, if he can't control you, he will kill you."

"I'd like to see him try," the man said with entirely too much confidence.

"And you will watch your world burn around you, Gris Gris," she said sadly but with surety.

"Da thief is right," Marius spoke after a moment's consideration. "Julien was well trained, and what is da fifth law?"

"Never leave an enemy at your back," the assassin ground through his teeth.

"We are now da enemy," the Patriarch answered solemnly.

"What do you say, Marius?" John-Luc never betrayed his emotions, giving his counterpart an even gaze. "Thieves and Assassins, together, we can fix all of dis."

"And de Old Ways?" the other man asked warily.

"Left in da past," the thief said lightly, "where everything else belongs. Da war, da animosity, da death, all of it."

Marius looked away for a moment, "Won't be dat easy."

"Today is a start," John-Luc offered his hand to his assassin counter-part.

With a hesitant nod to his head, Marius shook John-Luc's hand and Mercy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, they might all get through this alive.

"I just missed something, didn't I…" a voice said from behind her and Mercy turned to the woman.

"Da Assassin's Guild has come to lend deir support," Mercy was pleased to say.

"Good, we could use tha extra men," Rogue gestured to her phone. "That was Gambit, he found another blind spot, this one into a staging ground. Apparently Julien has a small tactical group of about fifty, maybe sixty, heavily armed guards."

"Where?" Mercy asked and they turned back to the blueprints, pulling some satellite photos from under them.

"Here," the mutant traced her finger along a fence line to where two buildings met in a jagged catty-corner fashion. "Tha cameras have a narrow gap, enough for one man at a time ta get through, straight into this building here," she tapped at the one set farther back.

"What's in dere?" Claude finally felt the need to join the conversation.

"Barracks of fifteen of those guards," Rogue tapped her finger against the image. "Julien is likely planning on using them against Gambit when he attacks, otherwise what would be tha point in having them onsite yet not part of the normal protection detail."

"You want ta swap our men for his," Marius was the first to voice her plan.

"We need ta get Julien out in tha open and distracted from tha main goal," she moved the photos to the side and pointed to the four areas that had been circled on the blueprints. "These are tha ammo dumps and tha data server, Gambit spent tha whole morning locating them. His plan was to keep all the guards and Julien busy while tha thieves sneak in and disable them."

"Remy could get himself killed doing dis," Mercy pointed out in a non-to-pleased tone.

"Bigger tha distraction, bigger tha risk, but bigger tha payoff," Rogue practically quoted a Guild mantra and Mercy wondered if the mutant even realized it. "While we do this plans will be in motion to take out most of Julien's pawns offsite. Our main goal today is ta bring Julien's empire down from under him in one fell swoop with as little bloodshed as possible."

"As little bloodshed as possible?" Gris Gris laughed. "You do realize who you are talking to, right?"

"An effective assassin is one who knows more than just how ta kill," the mutant said dryly.

"And just where did you learn dat, fille?" Gris Gris eyed her warily.

"Would you believe my mother?" she replied cooly, ignoring the sudden odd stares that went her way. "Now, we send fifteen assassins in to replace tha guards, they will be Gambit's backup. Master Thieves will sneak in during tha chaos and set charges, which brings up tha problem I voiced earlier. Marius, what kind of high explosives do you have available?"

Gris Gris grunted, leaning forward on the table at the interloper, "Just who put you in charge, fille?"

"Name's Rogue, not fille," the mutant didn't even flinch at the man who's Guild title was First Kill for a very good reason, "and Gambit put me in charge."

"And dat makes it all da better?" the assassin held her gaze and while everyone noticed Rogue slowly slip off of her gloves, only Mercy caught the real significance of the action.

"Gris," Marius warned the man, "I spoke to Remy LeBeau last night, a deal was struck. If he wants his fille in charge den let him, so far her plans have merit."

"Merit," Gris Gris scoffed, "she's just following her copain's orders."

"Okay, one, he's not my boyfriend or copain, whatever, why can't ya'll speak English around here anyway?" she said with frustration then shook her head. "Secondly, Gambit only had an idea of what he wanted ta do, I came up with tha actual details, this is just as much _my_ plan. And lastly, I have nothing invested here regarding tha Guilds, I only want ta take one more sycophantic psychopath off tha streets," her eyes flickered over to the Assassins Patriarch for a second, "um, no offense ta yourself, Marius."

"He gets it from his mother's side," the assassin replied dryly.

Gris Gris ignored him, "And you think you're qualified ta lead da Assassins, huh, fille?"

"Well, sugah, Interpol has me listed as a known terrorist so there's that…" she replied sweetly, then smiled, "and there's also tha fact that I'm both a Thief _and_ an Assassin."

"Is dat so," he wasn't impressed.

"Oh, yes," her face took on a smile she could have only have borrowed from Remy LeBeau himself, "I steal lives."

Quickly she reached up but Gris Gris was a highly trained Assassin. He grabbed her hand to keep her from striking him… and within seconds he fell slumped over on the table before then sliding down onto the ground.

"Hein!" Marius bellowed as several assassins started to go for their weapons.

"Relax," the mutant said loudly, "Gris Gris is just taking a little nap, but I could have killed him."

One of the assassins straightened out Gris Gris and checked his pulse and breathing. "He's passed out, sir."

"How…?" John-Luc muttered the question etched on Marius' face.

"What?" Rogue shrugged, "Yah think Gambit brought me along cause I'm just another pretty face?" There was a moment of awkward silence. "Yeah, don't answer that."

"Well," Marius cleared his throat, "um… miss…"

"Just Rogue."

The Assassin smiled, "Rogue. What would you like? C4? Semtex? PE4?"

"Hmm," she seemed to think about it as if she was ordering wine with dinner, "Semtex I should think."

"Very fine choice, my dear."

…

_Shipyards - Half an Hour Ago _

"Claude, report?" Rogue called into her walkie talkie, he was the last thief to report in.

"It was flip da second switch, right?" the man's voice came over the radio.

"The first switch!" Gris Gris practically shouted into his receiver. "I told you dat six times!"

A chuckle not nearly as deep and rugged as Gambit's answered back. "Aww, did little Gris Gris not have a long enough nap?"

"Damn thieves!"

"Boys!" honestly, it was like she was back in the Brotherhood all over again. "Focus or I'll redefine nap-time for tha both of ya."

There was a pause, then a sobered voice said, "I'm in position, ma'am."

"Good," she was definitely not old enough to be called ma'am but right now she took what she could get. Picking up her other radio, "Gambit, you ready?"

"For you, mon cheri?" the thief's rich voice melted the line, "Always."

Rolling her eyes, "Do me a favor and don't get yourself killed, otherwise I can't kick your ass later for that comment."

"Promises, promises," he said wistfully, then, "heading to da front gate now."

"Good luck," she couldn't keep herself from saying. She'd known about the plan since the night before but not until this moment did it hit her that if anything went wrong, he probably wouldn't come out of this alive. It was something that the realist in her tried to prepare her for but every other part of her refused to accept it could happen.

"La chance de dame est de mon côté, petite," he spoke of Lady Luck and she got a strange feeling he was referring to her.

A moment later there was a loud hiss-bang which could be heard from her hidden control base two buildings down from Julien's complex.

John-Luc smiled, "Didn't take him long, did it."

"Nope," Rogue returned the grin, confident in her friend's ability to come back to her in one piece. Clicking the radio, "All advance teams, as soon as ya see an opening, take it."

…

The guards moved away towards the sounds of battle and a figure slipped over a fence and hid behind a small electrical housing unit. Running low to the ground Theoren headed towards a metal building. A quick pick of the lock and the thief was in.

…

Claude could see Remy through the spaces between the buildings and watched as he took two men down with a double tap of his Bo staff. Satisfied that everyone was now fixated on his former Guild mate, the Master Thief popped a window on a building and snuck inside.

…

The cadre of assassins finished tying up the men they had knocked out, quickly donning stolen assault gear. It was the good stuff, military grade, Julien didn't spare any expense. A call came out over the radio for the containment teams to get into position. Gris Gris had no idea where that was supposed to be but he was sure he could figure it out. With a sharp, non-distinct reply to whoever was directing the battle the assassin lead his men to do the unthinkable… protect a damn thief.

…

It took longer, but Emil was a patient man. Eventually the guards on the rear of the complex, farthest away from Remy's attack, were called away. Picking the lock on one of the gates he strolled inside and headed to a large Army truck that was parked, boxes covered with heavy canvas inside.

…

Mercy was given the toughest assignment of getting to the data servers in the main building, literally under Julien's nose. Staying in Remy's shadow as he made a full on assault, Mercy slowly followed behind him, Semtex and detonator in hand. Her brother-in-law blew open a door and headed inside, she made her way to the far side entrance, avoiding the gathering assault team.

"Cleared," Claude's voice came over the radio ear-piece, Theoren was done as well.

Two of the tactical guards appeared around the corner and she slunk back into the shadows.

After they passed she made her way to the door and picked the lock in seconds to slip inside. Gambit hadn't really gotten a look at the server room, he wasn't able to get close enough, but the amount of wires, cooling units, and other tells feeding into the building made this the obvious choice for its location, a hunch which paid off.

"Cleared," Emil said over the radio.

Now they were waiting on her.

"Wait," she could barely hear the voices that were above and to the front of the building, "you paid off _DEADPOOL_?"

"Oui, every now and again someone has da idea to get revenge on me by sending da world's best assassin after me, non-guilded I might add," there was no mistaking Remy's voice.

Checking that the outer rooms were cleared she placed the explosive device on the central hub of the servers, racks upon racks of computers holding all of Julien's criminal exploits. Hopefully he didn't have a backup, though he probably did. Either way, it would be one more blow against the man to cripple his criminal enterprise for good.

A part of Mercy hoped Julien would get caught in the blast, another part wanted him to suffer more, and yet another told her that Henri would not approve of such thoughts.

Flipping the first switch on the detonator to arm it for remote trigger she made her way back out of the building and disappeared into the shadows.

"Cleared."

…

All explosives were set and armed. Rogue took a long breath before clicking the radio, "All teams, move into position. Tha explosions are your key ta attack. Disarm and disable. Only use deadly force if _absolutely_ necessary. This means you, Fifolet."

There was a small pause then a deep voice said, "Understood, ma'am."

"Good," she said sweetly then picked up her other radio, turning the volume higher so she could hear what Gambit was saying.

"To be honest," she heard the thief clearly despite the transmitter being in his trench pocket, "I wasn't gonna deal with dat loose end until later, but I like da idea of everything being taken care of in a nice, neat package all in one go."

"How did you know about Fifolet?" Marius asked from beside her as the group started to move towards their selected entry point.

"I know because Gris Gris knows," she shrugged like it was no big deal, she didn't want to play it off as a threat.

"Interesting," he rubbed his chin in thought. "Miss Rogue, would you-"

She quickly lifted her hand holding her index finger in the air to stop him, not bothering to look at the assassin. "Don't even think about finishing that thought, sugah."

"What contingency plan?" Julien asked and she got very interested in the conversation.

"Something I improvised," Gambit responded. "Haven't you figured it out yet Julien?"

Rogue grinned as she realized the thief was giving her an opening.

"Figured out what?"

"I'm da distraction."

With those words, Rogue hit the detonator. Who said she didn't have a sense of style?


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:** I'm about to hit 100 reviews! Woohoo! I love you guys! Thank you so much! I do this for you! As for this chapter… erm… I regret nothing! /flees

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four<strong>

_Shipyards_

Remy knew he liked Rogue for a reason… and when the explosions were perfectly timed to his declaration… well… he _really _liked that Southern spitfire.

The building rocked as the data server room went up, the resulting concussion filtering out through the thin sheet-metal walls. Gambit and his Assassin back-up were expecting it and were the first to react. Moving swiftly out of the line of fire and into the fray, Gambit slipped several cards out of his sleeve and with a sizzle they sped towards their targets, the men on the catwalks. The Assassins, which had mixed amongst the others, shot for mid-torso only, letting the flak vests take the brunt of the assault.

Glancing up at the gallery, Julien was being ushered through a door by his second in command.

Henri's murderer was not getting away that easily.

No way in hell…

…

Gris Gris swung his assault rifle and smacked a man squarely in the head, the body slumping to a heap. A quick glance around revealed that his men were doing their job and while they were still outnumbered, that was about to change.

The explosion was an excellent distraction from the original distraction and LeBeau was able to get clear before the guards got their wits back. It would be the one and only time First Kill would do this for a thief, but only because his Patriarch asked him to.

The mutant thief used his spring step to clear the stairway up to the gallery in two bounds and disappeared through the door after the fleeing Julien. Considering that the Assassin Patriarch's son had killed LeBeau's wife and brother, there was no doubt in Gris Gris' mind what the thief would do when he finally caught up with the former Assassin...

"Gris," Fifolet asked behind him, "should we follow?"

"Yeah," he looked around, his Assassins not even breaking a sweat yet, "you and me, let da men clear da room."

Making it across the expanse, the two Assassins raced up the stairs and through the door, hot on the feuding men's trail.

…

As the attack groups advanced they received only minor resistance as most of the guards Gambit had knocked out where still laid out where they fell. Others were disorientated by the explosions and stood dumbly, unsure what they were supposed to do. However, there were still a fair few who reacted well and put up a fight.

Rogue rounded a large piece of steel haul that looked like it hadn't moved since the 70s and saw the attack too late. The metal rod came swinging at her and she wouldn't be able to dodge, but she could easily take the brunt of such a hit due to her invulnerability and threw up an arm to block.

Her wrist was caught in a strong grip, her body twirled and dipped like a dancer into a man's left arm while his right hand blocked the weapon with his cane. Rogue could hardly believe what she was seeing as the man then parried away the pipe and used his cane to strike the attacker on the head, knocking him to the ground. With just as smooth a motion she was brought up to stand face to face with a silver haired fox.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Jean-Luc said with a grin, "but I'm afraid you're much too young for me."

Gambit's father then kissed her gloved knuckles before disappearing around the discarded haul and back into the fray.

Rogue stood speechless for a good minute, at least.

Shaking off whatever _that_ was, Rogue ran towards the main building she was heading to before getting sidetracked. She needed to get to Gambit before he did something he'd regret for the rest of his life.

…

When the building shook and the sounds of explosions could be heard going off in all directions, Julien, for all purposes pretense, panicked. Everything around him had fallen apart, LeBeau had picked away the pieces of his carefully built empire and now it seemed that nothing was left…

"Dis way," Phillip pushed Julien towards the office door when the shooting started and Julien moved automatically. Once he was inside and away from the visuals of his failure, the assassin was able to stop and gather his senses.

Momentary set-back.

Evade first then reassess your position.

With the precision he was trained for, Julien made his way to the back stairwell. Opening the door a small gust of heat rushed forward from the damage done below. The building was mostly metal, as was the server room, and so there wasn't much to burn.

Quickly they descended the stairwell to a back room, half the wall blown out and door warped. Julien kicked a piece of the sheet metal and it popped from its fasteners and fell to the side. Ducking under a fallen cross beam beyond, Julien and Phillip made their way over to what was left of the room next to the data servers. This one had a door to the outside and with caution they exited.

Fighting was off to the right, several Assassins were taking out his patrol guards and the fight from the building was now spilling outside. Julien headed left with his second trailing behind him.

Instinct told him to duck and one of LeBeau's playing cards narrowly missed him. Bolting off to the left behind a long building Julien pulled his Glock from his shoulder holster and pressed his back up against the wall. He heard a thwack and then the thump of Phillip getting taken out by the thief. The assassin brought his gun to bear, waiting for his pursuer.

As soon as he had a shot, Julien took several of them, not giving the mutant a chance to throw any more of his explosive cards. LeBeau let out a cursed as he pulled back around the edge.

"Give up yet?" the thief shouted with a bit of glib to his voice.

"No," he replied simply.

"Darn."

Five cards swung around the corner of the building making their way towards him and Julien pushed off the building to duck behind a small maintenance shed. The motor pool was the next building over, if he could just get to a car…

Letting off a blind shot towards the direction of the thief, Julien ran to the open bay of the large warehouse where his personal limo and other vehicles were being kept. Several guards were knocked out, some even tied up, but otherwise the attackers had cleared this area and moved on. Julien spotted a sedan that wasn't blocked in.

The former Assassin made it two steps before instinct kicked in again. Magenta charged playing cards flew past him as he skidded off to the side towards several metal tanks and crates. Julien pulled two shots off in the thief's direction as he hunkered in, his mag now empty.

"Now?" LeBeau shouted, the word echoing in the open space.

Julien slid the used mag from the Glock and dropped it, replacing it with his backup mag of fifteen bullets. "No."

"Pity."

…

The two Assassins entered the office with precision, Gris Gris checking the left, Fifolet the right. Upon immediately seeing it was clear they went to the open door and followed down the steps after the men. Cautiously they slipped through the broken wall and from there outside.

"Which way?" Fifolet asked as Gris Gris quickly scanned the area, listening for the distinctive sizzle of LeBeau's attacks.

"This way," First Kill started to jog to the left, following both sound and instinct.

…

On her way to the main building Rogue spotted Mercy using a bola to finish off a guard and ran to intercept the woman.

"You good?" she asked the House Matriarch.

"I'm good," Mercy nodded, retrieving her bola. "This way."

As they headed to one of the side doors, Rogue couldn't help but ask, "Mercy, yah sure Gambit's adopted?"

"Quite sure," they stopped at the door, "but he does turn dat whole nature vs nurture argument on its head."

"No kidding," she said wryly, then heard the now distinctive sound of Gambit's charged cards behind her, not in the building.

Mercy heard it too and since both women knew that wherever Gambit was, Julien would be, they turned and headed towards the noise.

…

For a good minute the two enemies traded fire, Julien with his gun and LeBeau with his cards. Julien tried to conserve his bullets knowing that the mutant would have much more ammo than he. Although, Julien did notice that the other man was very stingy with his attacks, could it be that he was running low?

The thief attempted to sneak around the very sedan that Julien had hoped to use as a getaway vehicle. Julien went to the edge of one of the crates and lined up his shot through the glass of the car windows. Taking a breath and holding it, the assassin prepared to pull the trigger.

…

Gris Gris and Fifolet came up to the motor pool, one of the first areas taken down in the attack. There were sounds of gunfire and explosions but the noises echoed in the open area and they couldn't be sure where it was coming from.

Faint traces of pinkish-purple lit up the far end on the right.

Not wanting to find themselves in the literal middle of a firefight, the two men veered off to the left and made their way down the side of the building. Once they had their eyes on Julien and LeBeau they could figure out their next move.

…

Rogue and Mercy got to the building just in time to see the two Assassins disappear inside. The women followed, sneaking up the middle as the noises died down, squatting next to the limo.

Mercy mouthed, "Where are they?"

She shrugged and shook her head. The building was long enough to put four limo's end to end and with all the other vehicles, crates, propane tanks and machinery…

_CRACK!_

A single shot rang across the building followed by sickening silence.

…

He got him, he was sure of it.

With a grin, Julien slowly stood from his cover, gun drawn but partly lowered.

Finally, he would be rid of LeBeau and at the very least he could use his death to break up whatever tenuous truce the thief had managed to create between the Guilds. It would take him some time to get back to the level he once was, but to be able to stare down on the mutant's dead body was worth all that he had lost today.

Moving carefully, Julien could see the mutant's hat lying on the ground having rolled away from the car… a few drops of blood smeared across the ground…

_THWACK!_

LeBeau's Bo staff came down sharply on Julien's hands and he lost his grip, the gun dropping away. Moving to defend himself, the mutant threw a punch which he managed to block. LeBeau twisted and brought the staff around again, this time striking him in the side. The assassin was able to see that he did hit his target, LeBeau favoring the staff with his right arm, his left throwing weak punches, sleeve torn and red.

Julien was able to get a punch in on the bleeding man's vulnerable spot but this only sent him in a deeper rage. The mutant managed a two hold grip of the staff and completed three swift strikes in succession, causing Julien to back up.

Defense was always the assassin's worse skill and he left himself open for LeBeau to plant his boot square in his gut. The force of the kick sent him flying back against the tanks, the man landing in a heap.

"How 'bout now?"

"No!" Julien snarled.

This is _not_ how it was supposed to end.

"Shame," the mutant shrugged, slipping a playing card from his sleeve. "Still, can't say I didn't try."

Julien's eyes narrowed at the card as it began to glow, "What you gonna do, LeBeau, knock me unconscious with dat and kill me den? Figures, you ain't got da guts to look me in da eye when you do it, you unkempt demon spawn who wouldn't know honor if it dressed itself up like one of your whores and whispered into your ear everything Belle never will."

As if all the air had been sucked out of the room, which was a major feat seeing as the area was open to the outside, time stood still as Gambit's eyes literally began to darken and glower. Julien hit a nerve, good, anger makes him careless.

Slowly LeBeau's lips curved up into the highest, tightest, and most absolutely Joker worthy grin Julien had ever seen on any man before.

"I don't have to knock you out, Julien," the mutant's red eyes darted slightly up and to the right before returning to him, "in fact, I don't have to hit you at all…"

That's when Julien realized he had fallen against the tanks… filled with propane…

One perfectly aimed strike with LeBeau's kinetically charged projectile and Julien would find himself in the middle of a firestorm.

…

The two Assassins heard the shot and took cover. From their vantage point they could see the thief sneak around a sedan farther up the way and attack Julien, knocking him down. Some words were exchanged and LeBeau held a glowing card in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to see what was about to happen.

Julien may have betrayed his family and his Guild, but he was still the Patriarch's son. With no time to get to the mutant to stop him, Gris Gris brought his weapon to bear, center mass in his sights.

…

Rogue and Mercy snuck past the limo in time to see Gambit knock Julien into the propane tanks. The mutant slipped a playing card from his sleeve and it quickly charged. At first she thought he was going to simply knock the man out with the concussion blast… but then Julien said something and the mutant's body posture changed.

"Oh hell," slipped from her lips when she realized he was going to kill the man by setting the tanks alight.

At that very moment she saw Gris Gris move on her right, clearing an obstacle to get a clear shot of the thief. He was going to shoot Gambit because he was threatening Julien.

Too far away to get to Gambit in time… Rogue made a choice and hoped that the faith she had in her friend wasn't misplaced.

…

Every inch of Remy's body itched to destroy that which had taken away those he had loved.

_Bella Donna._

_Henri._

Vengeance was his at the flick of his wrist.

_Peace was never an option._

Gambit let the card fly true to its target.

…

Gris Gris pulled the trigger, the bullet biting into flesh.

…

Nothing would ever be the same again.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:** You guys make me blush! I love ya! So here is the next chapter! You're all too awesome to keep waiting!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five<strong>

_Shipyards_

Julien saw the very subtle flick of LeBeau's wrist and knew that the man had made his choice. He wanted to close his eyes and brace himself but he would not give the mutant the satisfaction. At least this way, Julien would get the one thing he had craved the most, the end of the Thieves Guild. Even if LeBeau managed to survive the explosion being so close to it, there is no way Marius would let his son's murder stand without retribution, not again.

It would all end here, now, in this moment.

The card flew and time stood still for Julien as he traced the weapon's trajectory, expecting it to go high and away so that he couldn't perform any last minute block, not that he could being sprawled out like he was. Instead, the explosive cardboard came up short… extremely short.

A Joker landed between his legs, the caricature laughing at him before popping out of existence.

As Julien let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, LeBeau walked purposely over to him, grabbing his lapels and dragging him to his feet. "You ain't even worth da instruction card."

With those words, Julien realized that the mutant regarded him the lowest of the low, not even worth death by the little worthless card that explained a simple game of Five Card Stud which came in most commercial decks of playing cards. LeBeau didn't even use commercial decks, not unless he was very desperate. This was quite possibly the worst insult imaginable to the thief.

"Surely I'm worth at least a deuce?" Julien pushed off the man, dusting and straightening off his jacket, trying to retain some manner of pride and respect in his defeat.

"Let's see how well you behave," LeBeau grabbed him roughly by the shoulder with his good arm and lead him out into the open.

From the shadows, figures started to emerge.

Gris Gris and Fifolet walked up in their flak gear, First Kill speaking into his radio. "We have him, alive. We're in da Motor Pool, back of complex."

Mercy was walking determinedly up through the blocked vehicles, body tense and jaw set.

"Hey, Mercy, do you want to—" LeBeau started to say but before he could finish, Mercy's hand connected with Julien's nose, his eyes rolling back into his head before passing out.

When he woke up later, his first words were 'should have seen dat coming'.

…

"—tie him up?" Remy finished but his sister-in-law had already cold-cocked the assassin and sent him into a heap on the floor. "Dat works too," he chuckled. "Feel better now?"

Mercy took a couple short breaths and straightened herself out, "Much."

He heard some shuffling beside him and saw Rogue approach, dusting herself off as a layer of dirt was traced down her side. When she got closer she eyed his torn sleeve and the speckling of red. "You've been shot."

Shrugging a bit, it hurt, but no more than reason, "Just a graze, Julien may be able to _think_ like an assassin, but he sure as hell never could aim like one." Always veering to the left…

His words garnered a snicker from Fifolet but Gris Gris was more bureaucratic about the situation, and oddly silent too. The man always had a big mouth on him.

More footsteps and Marius plus three Assassins walked up the path between the cars. The Patriarch stared down at his son then looked at the excommunicated thief curiously.

"You stipulated alive," Remy grinned, "you never said anything about his state of consciousness."

The man let out a sigh, "I suppose that's true."

With an almost invisible gesture, Marius' men pulled his unconscious son to his feet and dragged him away. As he watched the man who murdered his brother and wife disappear into the distance, Remy was overcome by an overwhelming sense of… serenity.

It was over, all of it. He had his answers, he knew who murdered his Bella Donna and why. He knew who had Henri killed and why. Though he hated the reasoning and despised the murderer himself… there was nothing left to wonder, nothing left to ask. Nothing he could have, or should have, done differently.

He even managed to get the Guilds to work together, if only for this one moment in time. Remy had to sacrifice his revenge for it, vowing to Marius that his son would be taken alive, to be dealt with inside his own Family for what he had done to Bella Donna. Of course, this meant the Thieves would have no such justice for Henri. That was okay, every thief knew the punishment for murdering one of their own in the Assassin's Guild was much more… creative… than anything a Thief could imagine, and as the man says… they can imagine quite a bit.

Of course, Marius would likely not kill his child, possibly deferring punishment to the Assassin Council. Regardless, Julien would not be getting out this unscathed, there was just too much blood on his hands now…

and none on Remy's…

Henri would be so proud.

"Were there any complications?" Marius' words shook Remy from his internal musings.

At first the thief thought the question was aimed at him but the Patriarch's eyes stared pointedly at his right hand, Gris Gris, who was still strangely quiet, his brow furrowed in either thought or annoyance. However, it was Rogue who piped in with a, "No, no problems. Everything worked out just fine."

First Kill gave her a strange look, before nodding, "As da fille says."

"Well, now dat dat's settled," Jean-Luc's voice literally came out of nowhere as he appeared to the side of the group, nearly scaring Remy out of his skin. Damn, the man was getting old, he shouldn't still be able to do that! "I think it's about time we allow da police dat we so kindly paid off to conveniently keep away to just as fortuitously show up and arrest all dese poor unconscious gentlemen."

"Yes," Marius said thoughtfully, "I'm sure a good manner of dem have warrants against dem."

"Make sure yah grab his second in command for yourself," Rogue added, "he'll be able ta tell us if dere is anything we missed."

The two Patriarch's exchanged glances, Marius the first to speak up, "I admit, Thieves are more subtle dan Assassins when it comes to information gathering."

"And Assassins are much apt to deal with certain _details_ dan Thieves," Jean-Luc agreed with just a hint of a smile.

"We would be remiss as leaders if we did not see dis out to da end," Marius offered casually.

"Couldn't agree more," Jean-Luc grinned broadly, the same grin Remy stole a long time ago.

Remy couldn't be more pleased. Here started what would hopefully be a new era of peace and camaraderie between the Guilds. It would be a slow process, but it was a start, and all great things had small beginnings.

Marius turned a thoughtful eye towards him, "You kept your word, LeBeau, I was honestly half expecting you not to."

This made him frown, "Den why did you agree?"

"For Bella," was a simple answer, but one that didn't need explaining.

And for the first time the mention of his fallen wife's name failed to bring up a swell of pain to his heart. Had he now closed that moment in his life as well? Could he finally let her ghost rest in peace?

"John-Luc," Marius addressed the elder LeBeau, "I think, as a gesture of good faith, dat da Assasins Guild would find no quarrel with da Thieves if dey were to lift da exile on Remy LeBeau."

Remy was sure he lost his poker face, the Patriarch's words an unexpected result of the past few day's events.

"A gesture of good faith," John-Luc nodded and buried in his words were sentiments of 'I'm letting you keep your son and not enacting my own personal revenge on him, it is only right you let me have my remaining son back'. Of course, neither would be willing to voice such thoughts aloud.

"Well," Marius mustered himself, "time we stopped loitering, it's unseemly for gentleman, and women, of our professions." He didn't bother a reply and started to walk away, Gris Gris and Fifolet following behind.

It was Mercy who broke Remy out of his daze, hugging, "Welcome home, beau-frère."

Still at a loss of words, and his arm hurting afresh thanks to his sister-in-law, Remy could only grin, looking to his father. John-Luc smiled softly, giving him a simple nod. Simple to everyone else, but to Remy it meant everything. Coming from his father, it meant the world.

"Well," Mercy pulled away started down the path, grabbing her radio from her pocket, "I'm sure Claude's picked da place dry by now, better get everyone out before day start taking the singles from da roofs."

It was an old joke, one that Remy laughed heartily at. He then went to say something to his father but again, the man had disappeared. One of these days, Remy was going to find out how he did that! Anyone who thought that Remy LeBeau was the sneakiest thief alive had obviously never met John-Luc LeBeau.

"Come on," Rogue touched his arm lightly, "let's get yah patched up, then yah can celebrate your homecoming."

"Yeah," he let out a breathless laugh, he always knew he'd come home, but never in his life did he think it would be like this. Rogue moved past him and that's when he saw it, "You've been shot."

"Huh?" she looked over her shoulder and saw the ripped material of her leather jacket where a bullet impacted just under the collar. "Damn, I liked this jacket."

So wrapped up in everything he cursed at himself for taking so long to put it together. Right as he threw his card there was a single gunshot, loud and echoing, but he thought it came from outside. Then the odd looks between Rogue and Gris Gris. First Kill would never have let him kill Marius' son, regardless of what the former Assassin had done. "Did you take a bullet for me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she waved him off with a smirk, "invulnerable, remember. Not like I was risking much."

"Still," he hated that she had a point there, but it didn't matter to him. His friend willfully put herself in the line of fire and even if she was invulnerable, that was never a full proof guarantee that absolutely nothing at all would go wrong, "thank you."

"You're welcome, sugah," she smiled, turning to walk away.

"Rogue," he stopped her again, realizing that she had trusted him to do the right thing back there, keeping him alive so he could make the choice not to kill Julien, "thank you, I couldn't have done dis without you."

She laughed and the softness echoed against the cold metal, "This was a cake walk compared ta some of tha stuff tha Brotherhood's got me inta."

Remy chuckling to himself as he joined her ahead on the path, "Dat's not what I'm referring to, cheri."

"Mighty cryptic there thief," she frowned.

"I told you, petite," he lifted her gloved hand and kissed it, "when I needed you, you'd know, and you did."

Speechless, she stared blankly at him as he turned and headed towards the entrance, he'd let her ponder his words for a bit. Grinning to himself, he exited the building and took in a deep breath, a weight he knew he had been carrying but reluctant to let go lifted on its own from his shoulders.

For Remy LeBeau, nothing would ever be the same again, and this was a good thing.

…

Rogue leaned up against one of the entrances to the large gazebo that sat in a clearing outside Mercy's Guild House. With the new and improved truce, Julien out of commission, and Remy LeBeau returned, the house found reason to celebrate with an impromptu bar-be-q. With the sun setting, the delicious aroma of pork and shrimp wafted up from the fire pit while the young thieves in training played games on the lawn.

Tall, dark, and annoying, well, not _that_ annoying, came up from behind and took a similar perch at the other side of the entrance.

"Yah really do live up ta your name, don't ya," Rogue laughed, having had time to think about all the thief had done. "Yah had everyone right where yah wanted us, manipulating tha game board from tha beginning. Bold and decisive moves, risking an all out war and then sacrificing your own vengeance for tha sake of tha Guild. One hell of a gambit, Gambit."

He chuckled, half his face hidden under his trilby, "Am I really dat transparent?"

"Yah are now," she pouted but unable to hide her mirth, "when it doesn't matter anymore."

"Dis is when it matters most," she could see the high, self-satisfactory grin on his face.

"Uh huh," Rogue shook her head, "I'm still not sure how I think about being used as your own personal Jiminy Cricket."

His lips turned quizzical, "Is dat what you think?"

"Said so yourself, I was your contingency plan," she pointed out, unable to hide a tint of bitterness in her voice, "yah knew about Danvers, knew I screwed up. I was your reminder not ta do tha same, that's what yah needed me ta do."

Gambit tilted up his head so she could see his eyes, "It wasn't like dat at all, petite, well, not completely."

Crossing her arms, "Then what was it?"

"You're not exactly da easiest person to manipulate, cheri," he slowly lifted himself from where he lounged and made his way over to her, "you kept surprising me, so what was I do to?" he chuckled, "I never expected you to follow me to Tokyo."

"After yah teased me like that with tha King of Hearts?" she raised one eyebrow, not convinced since she spent the last week or so believing he was playing her like a two-string fiddle.

"Didn't think you cared dat much," he shrugged, placing his hand above her head to lean on the beam, his body so close to hers she could feel the heat radiating off of him. "And I was so looking forward to bringing it up next time we met in battle."

"Might still get that chance," Rogue pressed into the wooden frame, once again the man doing funny things to her, her mind flashing back to their dance… their kiss… "We might be friends now, Gambit, but we ain't _that_ friendly."

He flashed her a grin and chuckled, his eyes darting from her own to her lips then back again, and for a moment Rogue thought he was going to kiss her again… and she'd let him… more so, she'd welcome it.

Instead, he pulled back slightly, letting his hand fall to brush against her hair, following the trace of a curl to her shoulder before lightly skimming down her arm. "What say we grab a beer and some dem ribs? I'll tell how you mucked with my master plan and you can keep making snarky comments at my expense."

"A plan with no drawbacks," she couldn't help a grin, her words almost a laugh.

"Thought you might like," the thief laughed with her, turning away to cross the gazebo, "and you're in luck, Emil cooks da best pulled pork from here to St. Louis."

"Tall order," she mused, but as she started to follow him, a question that she had wanted to ask came forward and not for the first time she found herself acting before thinking around the man, "Remy, how does it feel?"

Her Cajun friend stopped in mid-stride, "It feels… great," he replied softly. "Henri and Bella would have wanted it like dis, to see da Guilds working together. I'll never forget dem, I'll never get dem back, but deir deaths no longer weigh down on me. I can finally move on from dis, like dey'd want me to."

"They would," she smiled even though he couldn't see it.

"I'm sorry, Rogue," he turned is body slightly so he could look her in the eyes again, "but Magneto was wrong."

Rogue blinked and glanced away, her throat going dry again. "Figured as much," she coughed and straightening herself, "hindsight is funny like that."

"Peace is still an option, Rogue," Gambit spoke sympathetically, but not patronizing. "You'll find it."

"Sure," the word was entirely unconvincing, it was meant to be.

"I have faith in you, mon cheri," his words carried gently across the small expanse.

Her eyes flitted back to his and in them she saw something indescribable, the pools of red she would again gladly drown in.

With a strangled cry Rogue doubled over, pain slicing through her head as Danvers and a thousand others screamed from within. Falling to her knees, she clutched at her head only to feel intense heat radiate throughout her body.

"Rogue!" she heard Gambit shout, his voice miles away though he was only a few feet in front of her. "Your hands…"

Forcing her eyes open she lowered her hands and could see the swirling reds and yellow of energy gathering around her hands, licking violently, begging release, wishing to create havoc…

It had been years since she had absorbed Alex Summers, so why now was his mutation resurfacing? It was then she remembered the incident at the house, the telekinetic push. Not only were the voices getting louder but her powers were spiraling farther out of control.

Panic swelled inside her, feeding the flames which burned the fabric of her gloves away inducing further panic.

Rogue was only able to control other mutant's powers so easily because she was detached from them, the power was hers, not the emotions. But with her own mind awash in fear and alarm, Havok's energy blast only grew, threatening, wanting, to destroy everything that got in its path… she only had to let it go… her body weakening its hold against it…

"Rogue," the word was spoken softly in her ear, Gambit having moved behind her.

"Can't control it," she bit out through clenched teeth. "Don't know what's happening ta me."

"It's okay," he soothed as his hands reached around her and grasped her forearms, only inches from the swirling force and exposed skin. "Il va bien se passer, mon cheri."

"I don't want ta hurt ya," tears started to stream down her cheeks as she held back the energy and voices, it all becoming too much.

"You can never hurt me," Remy's voice was nuzzled so close yet for the first time she wasn't worried that he might accidently touch her, she knew he was much too smart and clever for that to happen. "Calm, deep breaths…"

Rogue found her chest rising in long, languid breaths to match Gambit's own. Closing her eyes again she felt tranquility wash over her, basking in the strength her friend was lending her through his own belief that she could do this. Dimly she registered that her body collapsed under her, sinking against the thief as she first and foremost put everything she had into dissipating Havok's energy.

Once the heat stopping prickling her fingers she turned towards the voices, loud and pounding against the walls of her mind. Still wrapped safely in Remy's arms she picked out the psyches one by one and threw them violently into the abyss. Danvers, however, remained elusive as she was more than just a ghost. With each attack the absorbed mutant gained ground, testing the weaknesses, finding the cracks in the mortar.

Slowly, Rogue opened her eyes, blurred and dilated from her ordeal, but she could see the figures of many standing around the gazebo, fear and worry mixed on their faces.

"It's getting worse," Gambit said, still holding onto her and she was too weak to care.

"I'll be fine," she argued, not believing the sentiment for even a second but she felt vulnerable and that always made her defensive.

"Let me get you some help," his words were so soft and caring, "let me take you to—"

"No," she reacted violently, knowing who he was referring to. Rogue moved forward and he didn't fight her as she tried to stand. Her legs felt like jelly and she collapsed onto her rear, only Gambit grabbing her wrists keeping her from falling onto her back.

"Rogue," he held on tight, "do you trust me?"

Her head shot up and she met those dark red eyes again.

"Do you trust me?" he repeated.

Her mouth opened, giving the only answer there was left to give. "Yes."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** Because you are all such awesome readers, here is the next chapter! :D I hate to say it but we're getting close to the end, and what a ride it will be! ;-)

Thandie Newton as Ororo Munroe (Storm)  
>Anyone else who might show up is X-Men: First Class casting. ;)<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six<strong>

_Xavier's School for the Gifted _

Ororo Munroe, otherwise known as Storm to both friend and enemy, stood to the side as the Blackbird came in for a landing, wind barreling through the hanger but having little effect on the Weather Witch. It wasn't long after the plane touched down, the pilot cycling her engine, that the hatch opened and a troubling sight emerged.

A tall figure came jogging down the ramp with a woman lying across his arms.

"Gambit? Storm question as she met him halfway through the hanger bay, staring down at the white striped woman she had fought against on a fair few occasions.

"She passed out on da plane," he answered, not stopping. "Da voices, she's trying to contain dem and deir powers."

"This way," the regal woman veered him towards an elevator which would take them into the medical facility below the mansion. "The Professor and Hank are ready for her."

He nodded, clutching the woman tightly as they entered the elevator. Storm had known the kinetically gifted thief for several years and this was hardly the first time he had brought a troubled mutant to the school to be cared for. This was, however, the first time said person was a known enemy of the X-Men. Still, the Professor never turned down anyone who needed help and if Gambit believed this woman was in such dire straits, then Storm would not be the one to argue, simply keep a watchful eye.

And watchful it was, noticing the way he kept glancing down at her as if she was going to disappear from his arms at any moment. Could this have anything do with recent events, the rumors that had been going around?

"I heard about Henri," she said softly, "I am truly sorry for your loss."

Glancing up at her, he offered a small smile, "Thank you, Stormy."

He called her Stormy, that was a good sign. If he called her by her proper name or call sign then she'd really start to worry.

The elevator doors opened and Storm lead them down the hall to one of the more isolated med rooms. The Professor was already there, sitting in his wheelchair next to the solitary bed while Hank McCoy, the Beast, stood off to the side behind several computer monitors which looked tiny in comparison to his bulky blue figure.

"Lay her down, please, Gambit," Xavier gestured to the flat bed and the thief did as he asked. Storm noted that her friend was wearing full gloves, not his usual biker ones, as he tipped Rogue's head to straighten her neck, brushing the hair from her face.

"Ororo," Hank called her over, holding two electrodes in his hands, "if you would be so kind and put these on Miss Rogue's temples."

Grabbing two latex gloves, she slipped them on before taking the items. The Professor moved behind the head of the bed, closing his eyes, already using his telepathy to get a reading on the woman's state of mind. Storm placed the electrodes on her temples as asked, noting the painful creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth where the Brotherhood mutant clenched against whatever she was fighting in her mind.

"Quite remarkable," Hank said moments later once the readings filtered through the computers.

"That good or bad?" Gambit asked and Storm took note that the man elected to stay instead of going on his way already.

"It seems," the Beast adjusted the glasses perched precariously on his nose, "in layman terms, that Miss Rogue has more than one brain pattern, several in fact, all layered on top of each other."

"Da voices," the thief said.

"Likely," Hank tapped away. "There are three very strong patterns and then several more of lower but varying intensity. It would seem that when Miss Rogue absorbs someone, she keeps more than just a voice of that person, but a complete imprint of their psyche."

"I could have told you dat," he rolled his eyes. "How do we shut dem up?"

"It's more than that," the scientist continued on unperturbed. "If she was unintentionally recalling powers she hadn't absorbed in years then that means the psyches must be somehow taking dominance over her own."

"What?" Gambit looked back and forth between the unconscious woman and Hank. "She's in control, she's always been in control, she's never not been Rogue."

"The psyche is composed of several parts, not just the waking mind," Hank pointed out, "and a mutant's powers are but one layer of their psyche. If this is getting worse, as you say, then it's only a matter of time before the psyches gain control of her conscious."

"And if they do?" the thief asked cautiously.

"I… don't know," Beast admitted. "It's possible nothing severe would happen, but more than likely she would either go catatonic… or fly into a schizophrenic rage. If she is able to regain the powers she absorbed all at once without her sanity intact… the results could be apocalyptic."

The room went silent for a moment as the weight of the man's words fell on all of them. They had never known Rogue to attempt to recall powers of her own accord before, not during one of their many battles, and they assumed she couldn't, but now they knew different. With the powers came the voices and too many cooks in the kitchen…

"I ask again," Gambit said coldly, "how do we shut dem up?"

"First," the Professor got their attention, "we discover what has stirred them into action."

The telepathic mutant gestured to the box of latex gloves on the table and Storm fetched it for him as she pointed out, "We've fought Rogue for years, she's never showed signs of having troubles controlling this part of her mutation. On the contrary, she has, on occasion, showed better control over the powers than the original mutant she absorbed them from."

"Yes," he took two of the gloves and slipped them on, "that had not gone unnoticed."

"But not always," Gambit offered, "she couldn't time delay da cards after she absorbed me."

All three mutants looked at the thief and again Storm had to wonder how much of the rumors were true. St. Petersburg, New York, Tokyo, Jordan… he had been in New Orleans when he called. Could the consummate lady's man have actually hooked up with the untouchable Rogue as the water-cooler gossip among the mutant community seemed to suggest?

Very few knew Gambit as well as Storm did, how he had a respect for women that belied his reputation. This made his actions all that more confusing… and very interesting.

"That's technique," the Professor pointed out, "did she have the troubles you did when your mutation manifested? Charging items without meaning to? Being unable to control the level of the charge?"

"No," he frowned, "not dat I know of. I was kinda passed out for most of it."

"Well," Xavier was much too polite of a person to question further and turned back to the patient, "normally Rogue is unreadable to telepaths, the sheer amount of noise created by her psyches enough to drown out her own thoughts and hide her mind."

"Normally?" Storm caught the word.

"The psyches seem to be fixated on a central point, Rogue's own psyche," he placed his now gloved hands on the sides of Rogue's face. For a telepath, skin to skin contact was the best, but with that not an option, this was good as it got. "I believe I can trace their path and make contact, speak to Rogue on a telepathic level and help her settle the psyches."

"Would you like me to get Jean?" Storm asked as the man closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Ororo," he took a long breath, "but I don't believe that will be necessary."

She was about to ask if he was sure but his breathing evened out and his head dipped a little, he was already gone into a psychic trance.

…

White noise, static, grey mist, all these words could describe what Rogue's mind looked like to a telepath. With so many psyches all bunched together, each jabbering on constantly, the sounds were reminiscent of a major sports stadium after the home team won the big game and then trying to find a pin drop amongst the noise. The fact that the woman could function with so much going on up there was a testament to her resolve.

Charles shouldn't have been too surprised at this, after all, even though Erik and Raven fell on opposite sides of mutant ideology, they were never ones to teach cowing down to one's mutation, but instead embracing it and overcoming it. What great things they could have accomplished if events had gone differently all those years ago…

Now was not the time to think on such things, a mutant needed help and although she was technically the enemy, that was hardly the point.

Delving deeper the mist began to clear, wooden porch steps appearing in front of him as his mind attempted to translate what he was seeing on a psychic level into something tangible for his conscious to relate to. Walking up the steps, a stone paved porch was laid out in front of him. This lead up to a simple front door of wood with a cut and frosted glass window inset.

That's when he felt them, thousands of eyes watching him. Turning around, Charles mentally shrieked in terror. Before him was a typical front lawn but it seemed to stretch on forever till inky darkness, and every inch of it was covered in ghosts.

Hundreds of figures stood like statues, translucent to varying degrees though none solid, all facing towards the porch. Some were obviously mutants, even ones he recognized such as Storm, Banshee, Emma Frost and Azazel, but others were human, again, those he knew like Moira. Each one had a blank expression on their face, shades of their former selves.

Movement caught his eye and there were more standing on the porch next to him. Pyro, QuickSilver, Havok, and Gambit among several others. As transparent and blank as they were, they looked at him as if questioning his existence before turning back towards the house.

"This isn't creepy at all," Charles couldn't help mutter against his good nature. As a telepath he understood the uneasy reality of being in another person's mind, seeing and feeling as they do, but to have those thoughts and emotions forever etched into his?

Yes, Raven had taught her adopted daughter well how to cope, he would expect nothing less from his adopted little sister.

Taking the door handle, it turned but the door was jammed. Putting his back into it, which was nothing more than an analogue for pressing his psyche against Rogue's, he eventually popped through the door, literally. Phasing through the barrier he encountered a rather normal looking home.

The entry area was decent sized, a stairway leading up over a hallway to the back. A living room was off to the right through an archway with sliding doors. It was cozy looking in a very southern red-neck kind of way with muted colors and a mounted fish above the fireplace.

To the left was a kitchen, pale yellow as if it came out of the 60s, a simple metal card table for a dinner table. Sitting on one of the chairs, legs dangling, a young blonde boy, couldn't been more than thirteen or fourteen, played with a pile of Legos. He was completely solid, humming away as he created what looked like a sword.

Curiously, Xavier took a few steps towards the boy, unsure why such a person would be there. Could he represent part of Rogue's psyche?

The kid looked up at him when Charles stepped onto the threshold of the kitchen, "You're new," his eyes narrowed for a moment as if seeing through him. "Skunk Head didn't absorb ya, how'd ya get in?"

"I…" he was put off balance for a moment at the boy's words, unsure what they meant. Well, he figured out the skunk part pretty easily. "I found my own way."

"Huh," the blonde shrugged then went back to playing, "well, welcome ta tha neighborhood."

As he formulated a reply, a crashing sound from upstairs caught his attention and he looked up in time to see Rogue rushing down the stairwell, taking three steps at a time.

"You!" she hissed when she saw him, skidding to a stop after the bottom step.

"Rogue, I'm here to help—" he started to say but more footsteps pounded above and with a shushing noise Rogue hid just inside the kitchen entrance.

A woman Xavier hadn't spoken to years, a friend sorely missed, came running down the stairs, just as shocked to see him. "Charles!" Carol's eyes narrowed at him just as the boy's had and he marveled at how young she looked, just like the last time he had seen her awake. "Oh, good, you're here, you can help knock some sense into this girl."

"Carol, I—" again his words were cut off as Rogue launched out from her hiding spot at the woman who was solid, unlike the ghosts outside.

Carol was caught off guard and defended two blows before Rogue was able to get a roundhouse kick against her. The former Air Force officer went flying across the entry hall into the living room, knocking over the sofa as she tumbled to the ground. With a wave of Rogue's hand, the sliding doors closed and locked.

"Yah got ten seconds, Professor," Rogue spouted angrily at him, her body trembling and he noticed the faint bruises that colored along the side of her face and traveled down into the neckline of the ballet shirt she wore.

"Gambit brought you to me to help you, Rogue," he said calmly, not wanting to aggravate her further. "The psyches you absorbed are attempting to take over your body, if they do that, the results could be catastrophic."

"I know that!" she bit out, pointing to the door behind him, the psyches just beyond, "I keep stopping them but she…" Rogue hand swung to the closed door and he noted she wasn't wearing gloves inside her mind, "she keeps inciting them!"

His friend was the reason Rogue's mind had been turned upside down? "Carol wouldn't do that."

"Oh, she would," there was spite layered in her voice. "She's had years ta plot her revenge against me but it was an accident, I didn't mean ta hold on that long."

"I know it was an accident, Rogue," by simple virtue that the woman had never repeated the incident even though it could make her very powerful, "I'm sure she does too, and also, vengeance is not in her nature," he argued, questioning his assumption. If Carol had been a prisoner here all this time, what could that have done to her psyche?

"Then why else would she do this?" the woman laughed as if she had nothing left. "She's been trapped in here for years and it's finally made her snap!"

Charles took a second to look between the front door and the closed doors to the living room and something occurred to him. "Rogue, I may be able to wake Carol up."

She blinked, "Yah what? Emma said that was impossible. Carol's stuck here. She merged with my psyche and it's impossible to draw her out without destroying both our minds in tha process."

"Yes," he mused, rubbing his chin as he went over the details in his mind, "she is, but Miss Frost has never seen inside Carol's mind since the accident. I believe I could use the Carol that's in here as a template to reconstruct what's left inside Carol's body."

"Reconstruct?" Rogue questioned, thinking it over. "Like a recovery disk on a computer?"

"Something like that, yes," he gave her a faint smile. "I can't promise it _will_ work but it's worth a try."

The woman's eyes widened ever so slightly, an overwhelming sense of hope filling the area. She turned to gaze at the boy in the kitchen, "Cody…"

The doors to the living room flew open violently and Carol stood purposefully, stretching her neck and shoulders to get the kinks out. "Right, let's try this again."

"Back off, Danvers!" Rogue barked at the woman.

"I'll back off when you start listening to me!" she snapped, getting just as defensive.

The two began to slowly round on each other, "Tha Professor here has a way ta wake yah up, yah don't have ta do this anymore."

Carol paused, her eyes going straight to him, "You can get me out of here?"

"Well," he thought about lying but that would only make matters worse for Rogue in the long run and that would do none of them any good, "no, but I believe I may have a way to wake up your body. Let you, her, move on with the rest of her life."

Carol took a moment to consider his words before nodding in understanding. She'd never be free of her prison but there was hope for her body, that it could be brought out of its living death. Turning back to Rogue, "That's what you think this is about?"

"Isn't it?" Rogue questioned.

"Heaven's no, girl," she patronized the younger woman, "I want what I've always wanted but you never listen to me!"

"Oh really," Rogue scoffed, the women too much alike to see each other rationally, "if yah just wanted ta talk then maybe yah shouldn't have sent tha Shades after me!"

"I was trying but you weren't listening!" Carol shouted in exasperation.

"Ladies, please," Charles tried to get between them before another fist fight broke out.

"Ah, they're always like that," the boy spoke up from the kitchen.

"Not helping!" both Carol and Rogue shouted at the kid at the same time.

"See," he giggled and returned to his Legos, pulling apart two stubborn bricks.

"Carol, Rogue," Charles said as calmly as he could, "let's step back for a moment here."

Both of them glared at him but at least they weren't yelling at each other anymore.

"Now," he cautiously continued, "Carol, you obviously have something you want to say to Rogue. Rogue, could you please humor me and listen to what this is?"

The red head raised one eyebrow at him, "Humor yah?"

"Gambit brought you to me," Charles pointed out again, "he believed I could help. Do you trust his judgment?"

She chewed on her lip for a second before turning back to Carol. "Fine, talk, but if it's more of yah anti-Brotherhood crap I had my fill of that years ago."

"I've always wanted what's best for you," Carol shook her head sadly, "for you to see the truth in the lies."

"Hah," Rogue rolled her eyes and started to storm off.

"I have proof now!" the blonde shouted.

"Proof," the other woman scoffed.

"Yes," Carol stepped forward, "let me show you. Let me bring in a Shade, listen to what it has to say."

"What, more boy scout propaganda?" Rogue gestured to Charles.

"Rogue," while he would be more inclined to side with Carol, whatever form she was in, he attempted a more diplomatic approach. "At least listen to what the… Shade has to say, it doesn't mean you have to believe it. This way Carol can be satisfied and end her attacks. Right, Carol?"

The blonde took a second but ultimately nodded, "Just listen Rogue, that's all I ask."

Rogue was not as quick to concede, her form still trembling and tired from the constant battle, ever so worn. Eventually she sighed, "Alright, I'll listen, just ta shut yah up."

Smiling softly, Carol headed to the front door but didn't make any move to open it. Instead, one of the translucent Shades materialized inside the entry hall. It stood blankly, unaffected by the world it was brought into.

"Why him?" Rogue practically shouted as soon as he appeared.

"Because you trust him," Carol answered as she came around the form. "You care about him and respected his privacy, letting his memories slip into the abyss without so much as a glance."

"Of course I did," the red head was now visibly upset, brow furrowed and body trembling, obviously regretting her decision.

"There are truths in his memories, Rogue," Carol said softly, beckoning the other woman forward, "ones that you need to see."

Rogue shook her head, standing firmly away from the Shade. "No."

"You agreed to listen," Charles said as politely and tactfully as possible.

"It's a trick," the woman argued.

"Oh, grow up, Skunk Head!" the boy hollered from the kitchen. "Stop being such a scaredy cat!"

"I am _not_ a scaredy cat!" she shouted back at him.

"Yeah, ya are!" he laughed.

"Fine!" she let out an exasperated growl and stomped forward to stand in front of the Shade. "Yah have something ta say," she placed her bare hands on the sides of Saint-John Allderdyce's translucent face, "then say it."


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** Stormy as promised ginchy! Everyone loves Stormy! :D Rogue's mind is a wonderful playground, it was a blast to write that last chapter, but as you all guessed, whatever is in John's mind can't be good. :( Thanks for reading, ya'll awesome!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven<strong>

_The Mind of a Rogue _

Charles watched as the world literally melted around him to be replaced with a large warehouse. His body moved off to the left, following two others, and this disorientated him as he wasn't expecting it. He attempted to look around but failed to control any of his actions.

This was because he was experiencing Saint-John's memory through the fire mutant's own eyes.

In the center of the warehouse several people stood around a man tied up, his hands bound in strange metal gauntlets behind the chair he sat in. It was Alex, looking very young despite being beaten. This was maybe a decade ago?

His assumptions on the time frame were confirmed when he got a good look at the others. Raven and Erik in particular. She was still using her younger blonde form while Erik's hair hadn't gone completely gray yet. Emma Frost was there too, looking half-dressed and as bored as ever. Azazel stood near Havok, guarding him likely, and there were a few others but as Saint-John didn't look their way Charles couldn't be sure.

"There, Saint-John," Erik pointed to a table off to the side where an older computer sat, though it was probably high-tech for the time this took place. On the other side of the table, a teenage girl was sitting with her feet propped up, reading a book with a Walkman blaring in her ears.

Saint-John sat down in front of the computer and started to fiddle with a few cables, connecting a box to the PCU, and doing other things with the system Charles didn't really understand. His fingers working on their own, the young man's eyes kept flitting over to the beautiful girl, a white stripe down her hair now noticeable at this angle. A teenage boy with a mane already as silver as gossamer, must been a young Pietro Maximoff, sat down next to Rogue.

"Hey," Pietro was about as smooth and awkward as a fifteen year old is apt to be, "I'm Pietro."

At first she didn't react at all, then she shook her head and pulled the headphones down around her neck, some band screaming out their lyrics before she clicked a button to turn it off. "Sorry, what ya saying?"

"Name's Pietro," he seemed to have worked up a little more confidence. "I'm a speed mutant, I can just about break the sound barrier, working on it."

"Cool," she said somewhere between 'that's neat' and 'not-impressed'.

"Saint-John," he leaned forward to hold out his hand, "what's your name sheila?"

Rogue stared down at his bare fingers for a second then closed her book, Charles catching the title _Leviathan_ by Thomas Hobbes, obviously a suggestion from Erik. She plopped her feet down and reached over her gloved hand to shake, "Name's Rogue."

"Rogue?" Pietro frowned.

"Yep, just Rogue," she leaned back in her chair.

There was a slightly awkward pause and Saint-John said, "I can control fire, make it do whatever I want."

Pietro laughed, "Regular arsonist he is."

"No, not arsonist," Saint-John corrected empathically, "artist."

"Sure," Pietro held out the vowel and Rogue giggled a little. "So, Rogue, what can you do?"

"What can I do?" she smirked, chuckling like one would at an inside joke, "Better question is, what can't I do?"

"Rogue," Raven's voice called over, "we're ready for you."

"Well," she put the book down and pulled the headphones completely off, "I'm on."

Saint-John swiveled in his seat and watched as she walked over to the main group gathered around Havok.

"Alex here has vital information regarding the whereabouts of Hank McCoy's new research facility," Raven spoke to the girl as if she was asking her to go down to the store to fetch a carton of milk, "I need you to find out the location and the pass codes to the security system."

"Okay," Rogue replied just as casually, slipping the gloves from her fingers. "Yah said he has an energy blast, focused in tha hands?"

"Yes," Raven turned a bit softer, kinder, "and remember, the power is yours to use, the emotion is not, don't let it get in the way."

"Right," she took a deep breath and turned towards Havok who was looking defiant, blood dripping from his lip, left eye puffed up and bruised.

"Good luck, little girl, even Frosty here couldn't get it out of me," there was a laugh in the man's voice, "the Professor made sure of it."

"Yes," Emma said drolly, "Charles did place a fairly impressive block in your mind. I commend his workmanship."

"That's all well and good, but you see, Alex," Raven's tone turned cold, "Charles blocked that information from telepathic scans, and if my daughter was a telepath, that would mean something."

Rogue touched the side of Alex's face and the faint traces of her mutation drawing his life force out of his body danced across his features as he passed out. Charles could feel Saint-John's shock and fear at not understanding what was happening. He just shook that hand!

Only seconds later, the young woman stood up straight and her voice a little odd, not speaking exactly in her southern lit anymore. "Hanover Square, Syracuse, State Tower Building, Twentieth floor, oh god, Scott, Scott, where are you, Scott, pass code to security system, Alpha, Echo, 7, 7, Romeo, 4, Lima, 3, 9."

With a gasp, Rogue grabbed her head as if shaking off an ice cream headache. After a moment she lifted her left hand beside her and watched as the swirling red and yellow energy gathered around it. Grinning, she shot her hand out and the blast skirted by Azazel to hit an old barrel squarely center, knocking it against the wall and ripping it open.

"Cool," the word was tingling with excitement as she brought her hand back in, gathering more energy before then drawing it away, completely in control. She glanced over her shoulder directly at Saint-John, "Hey Pyro," then at Pietro, "QuickSilver, wanna have some fun?"

Saint-John looked at his friend and mouthed the word "Pyro" while the speed mutant did the same with "QuickSilver", both of them instantly loving the new code names. They stood but then paused, Pietro looking to the adults in the room, specifically Erik.

The magnetic mutant stifled a grin, then sighed, gesturing that it was okay, "Try not to draw any attention to us, and… Pyro, bring up the location and security details first."

"Seeya out there," Pietro winked as if he had won the prize and zipped off, of course this was before either boy knew the true nature of her mutation.

The newly christened Pyro began to tap feverishly away, locating the facility behind a dummy corporation and finding their security system on the grid. This went on a few minutes and he was so intent on getting done as quickly as possible he heard the conversation going on behind him but didn't actually _hear_ it.

"Like Mother, Like Daughter," Emma Frost laughed, well, as close to one as she was capable of.

"The girl was a handful when I found her," Raven shrugged off the comparison, "I don't think that will change any time soon."

"I remember when Alex couldn't control his own powers that well," Erik mused, "yet she had no such troubles from the moment she absorbed them. That's rather remarkable."

"Charles said it himself," it made Xavier's heart heavy hearing Raven speak of him with both respect and ignominy, "our mutations are part of us. Our fears and our serenity, affect them. When my Rogue absorbs powers she doesn't have to take the baggage that goes with them. What emotions might filter in she can distance herself from to focus solely on the ability itself. It becomes nothing more than a tool to her, not a part of her. It's her own mutation she can't as easily distance herself from."

"Still having difficulty with the length of time she can hold the power for?" Erik asked.

"That, among other things," Raven sighed. "She can't seem to get over the boy she absorbed. I know if she holds on long enough the powers she gains would become permanent but she won't do it again."

"She knows it would mean a blending of her psyche with the victim's," Emma pointed out clinically.

"Exactly, and forcing her to do it will simply reinforce her apprehension and make the powers unstable," Raven was just as detached in speaking about her daughter. "It's going to be a slow process, but if I can get her over this irrational fear then just think what she could do, all the mutants she could absorb?"

"She'd become the ultimate mutant," Erik answered thoughtfully, "the ultimate weapon."

"I just need to find the right trigger or motivation—" she replied, being cut off as Pyro jumped up.

"All done!" he exclaimed to the adults who gave him bemused looks before he headed out to join the others.

"_Don't yah think I didn't know this already," Rogue's voice growled as the image started to fade away. "That they wanted ta use me, everyone always does."_

"_There is more to it than that," Carol scolded._

The world melted again and this time was replaced with a long hallway. Pyro walked casually, flipping a Zippo lighter open and closed in his hand, checking out the names on the doors. Many of them had military titles and Charles wondered if they were on a base, but it wasn't until he saw an evacuation plan next to a fire extinguisher that he understood.

Sure, he couldn't make out anything written on it seeing as Pyro wasn't focusing on it, but there was no mistaking that symbol: The Pentagon.

How did Pyro get inside the Pentagon?

Checking the palm of his hand there was a number written in black ink, 312. Stopping at the correctly numbered door, Charles got a look at Pyro's reflection in the glass and he had to be around eighteen or nineteen, looking a little out of place wearing a business suit.

Fiddling with the handle it wasn't locked so he stepped inside the office. A man, in his fifties with a receding hairline and broad shoulders, was sitting behind the desk scowling at a computer. "Good, you're here."

"_No, can't be…" Rogue whispered._

"Yeah," Pyro said cautiously, "and I have no idea why. Magneto told me the man in room 312 would explain."

"Simple," the older gentleman stood and moved away from the computer, "I need you to crack this computer, I want Colonel Loft's passwords and access to all these databases," he gestured to a piece of paper laying on the desk as he passed.

"Easy enough," he shrugged, sitting down in the vacated seat, pulling some flash drives out of his breast pocket as he rebooted the system to get into the DOS menu.

As he waited, the young man looked around and noticed the pictures hanging on the wall. Many of them were the same, the older gentleman standing with someone of importance such as Colin Powell. In one he was even being given a commendation by the President along with four other men. But if the pictures in the office were of the man standing across the desk from him…

"Why am I breaking into your computer for you?" Pyro didn't do subtle.

"Because it's not _my_ computer," Loft answered back. "It's Colonel Loft's."

Pyro pointed at the photos on the wall, "Then who are you?"

The man sighed, his body morphing as blue scales flipped and turned to reveal the distinctive form of the mutant shape shifter, Raven Darkhölme. "Little slow on the uptake today, Saint-John."

"_When did she… I don't remember this mission…"_

"Mystique," the man's jaw visibly dropped, "we thought you were dead."

"I would have been if that upstart Danvers had any say in it," she scowled, pacing a little, "She ruined a perfectly good cover identity, not to mention the whole operation. Now I have to start all over again. Hence, Colonel Loft."

"_What…"_

Pyro paused, mentally at least, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard, "Have you talked to Rogue?"

"I've been far too busy to deal with her right now," she waved him off.

"You need to, she's really upset," he informed Raven, his words low and fearful, "been literally on the war path, trying to find out who the flying woman was."

This caused the shape shifter to stop in her pacing, cocking her head towards him, "Has she now. Is she using her powers?"

"More than I've ever seen her," Pyro admitted, slipping a flash drive into a port. "She's scaring Pietro and me, we've never seen her this bad."

Raven was rubbing her chin while tapping one blue finger against her lips, "No, no this is good. Finally she'll see the worth in using her powers to their fullest."

"But—"

"But nothing. You listen to me, Saint-John, and listen well," the domineering woman planted both hands on the desk, "you are going to keep your mouth shut. Only a handful of people know I'm still alive and I want it kept that way. Understand."

It wasn't a question, it was a command, and when Raven demanded something be done, Pyro knew it was in his best interest not to argue. "Ah, okay, sure Mystique, whatever you say."

"Good," she smiled dangerously, "and don't worry about Rogue, she's a big girl now, she can take care of herself. If not, she'll soon learn how."

"_No… no… no…" the words came out in a disembodied whimper._

"_That's not the end of it, Rogue."_

Charles found himself staring down at a cell phone, dialing the number listed as Colonel Loft. Placing it to his ear, he looked up to see a small hallway, three doors, two being bathrooms and the other an employee's only. From the clinking sounds behind him, Pyro was in some kind of restaurant.

"Colonel Loft," a deep male voice came over the line.

"Hey, it's Pyro," he cleared his throat as he glanced over his shoulder. Charles' suspicions were confirmed, the place a coffee house. "I've met up with Rogue."

"And?" a female voice asked.

"The absorption is permanent," he sounded pained and strained, "she's retained the flight, strength, and invulnerability. It's been over two weeks."

"I knew it," Raven on the other hand was downright jovial. "Did Danver's psyche merge successfully?"

"I guess," he shrugged, checking over his shoulder again, "she said something about her not screaming anymore. I really think you should talk to her."

"No," she stated clearly, "she needs to work through this on her own, to understand just how strong she can become and me coddling her will do her no good."

"She's really upset," Pyro argued, slipping his Zippo from his pocket, flipping it open and closed to calm his nerves.

"Then be the supportive friend that you are, Pyro," the words were somewhere between another command and sarcasm. "Tell her it will be okay, point out how amazing it must be to fly and be invulnerable."

There was a pause, and although he couldn't see it, he knew Pyro was frowning and conflicted. On one hand, Rogue was his friend, on the other, he was deathly afraid of Mystique.

"Alright," he sighed, still fidgeting with his lighter, "I'll do that."

"Now don't sound so put out, Pyro," she patronized him, "this will be good for her. She needs to grow up, accept what she is what and she can do."

"I guess you're right," he replied meekly.

"Of course I'm right," Raven brushed his obvious worries aside, "I'm her mother and I know what's best."

Pyro snapped the lid of the Zippo closed and clenched his fist around it, "I've been gone too long, gotta go."

"Remember, Saint-John," her words were cold, "she is _never_ to find out."

"I remember," he mumbled as he hit the end call button.

Taking a second to compose himself, Pyro turned away from the bathrooms and walked across the café towards the booths in the back. Sitting in a far corner was Rogue, slowly bending a butter knife in her hand as if it was made out of putty…

Once again the scene melted away and Charles found himself in the entry hall of the house. Rogue was pulling her hands from the Shade's face as Carol looked on sadly. The young woman had just learned a horrible truth about the woman she called her mother, the betrayal she was feeling could be tasted in the air.

"Rogue?" he said as the woman stumbled back, her body starting to heave as she clutched her stomach. As he came around he saw her face was pained and breathing labored as if she was dry puking, her entire form racked in anguish.

"I'm so sorry," Carol said softly, reaching forward gently, "but you had to know."

Every inch of Rogue's body trembled, her jaw now clenched as her pale form reddened in anger.

A piercing scream struck against Xavier's mind and all he saw was white.

…

"Dat looks familiar," Gambit said as he looked up at the storm cloud forming inside the medical room.

"Yes," Storm said thoughtfully, lifting one hand to settle the air. It was years ago Rogue managed to get the drop on Storm in Baghdad to absorb her, but her psyche was obviously still very active in there.

Alarms rang out and Rogue's body began to convulse. Storm and Gambit both rushed to her side, the kinetic mutant grabbing the woman's arms and holding her down so she wouldn't fly off the bed. Rogue's super strength made it difficult for the thief but he held fast.

"What's happening?" Storm shouted before her friend had a chance to.

"Major spike in her brain activity, she's experiencing excessive neural oscillation," Hank was shifting through a cabinet that was set against the far wall. "She's having a seizure."

"We can see dat, Doc," Gambit shouted.

The Beast came up beside them with a syringe in his hand, "Hold her steady."

"Trying here!"

Storm moved to help when it felt like all the air in the room imploded, drawing around the thrashing woman. Milliseconds later a telekinetic push knocked against the Weather Witch, sending her to the floor alongside McCoy. Even Gambit, as nimble as he was, was not immune and she could see him sprawled out on the other side of the bed. The room had gone dark, the emergency lights kicking on, medical equipment scattered across the floor.

"What was that?" she asked as she got her feet under her, noting that Rogue had stopped moving but was thankfully still breathing. "Some kind of telekinetic, electromagnetic, pulse?"

"Seems that way," Hank was back at his now dead computers. "I'll have backup power resorted momentarily."

"Electromagnetic and telekinetic…" Gambit was now standing next to the woman, staring down at her with interest. "What mutant did she gain dat from?"

"All of them," the Professor said wearily as he pulled his chair away from the bed. "That was a burst of pure energy, triggered by Rogue's grief and anger."

"Is she okay?" the thief asked quickly.

"Physically and mentally she's fine, but emotionally…" Xavier took a long breath, "she's been given a lot to think about, a terrible shock and betrayal, it's upset her greatly. With the way her mind is structured, the nature of her mutation, I'm afraid she won't be able to wake up until she finds some level of calm. Otherwise the psyches could run rampant."

Gambit frowned, staring down at the woman as if he knew something they didn't and it wasn't exactly good news.

"How long will she be out?" Storm eventually asked into the silence.

"I do not know," the Professor responded sadly, "it's up to her. It could be hours, weeks, maybe even years…"


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: **You guys are the coolest, thanks so much for the reviews! Here we go, the next chapter, short but very important and was a bit on the emotional side to write!

And sorry to say, but it's almost over folks, just one more chapter and an epilogue left after this!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight<strong>

_Ellis Air Force Base – Far too long ago… but feels like yesterday_

Rogue skidded to a stop as she heard the thunderous sound behind her. Turning she could see part of the building collapse under its own weight as a fire raged inside.

Never a pyromaniac around when you need him!

"Mystique," she shouted into the radio, "come in, over," she waited long enough to see the South wall collapse, "Mystique! Come in! Answer me, Mama!"

A figure burst from the flames, a blonde woman, and it only took a moment for Rogue to recognize her. She had been there, earlier, when they snuck into the main building under the guise of an inspection.

Her clothes were now ripped, covered in blood, but it couldn't have been her own. There had been only one other person in the building with her…

"Mama…" she whispered and started to run back towards the flames when two strong arms caught her from behind.

"Lemme go!" she screamed as the man gripped her forearms, pressing them against her chest to constrict her movement. Lifting her off the ground, he dragged her backwards, feet flailing through the air as she attempted to get free. Rogue was tossed sideways and landed inside a black sedan, the doors shutting and the locks lowering on their own.

Pounding against the door, Rogue was unable to pull the lock up against the magnetic hold on it. For a brief moment she considered kicking out the windows only to remember they were bullet resistant. Staring out the back window, the rest of the building collapsed…

No… this couldn't be happening…

The door opened up and a man slipped inside. Enraged, she reached out to grab him with her bare hand but he snatched her wrist above the cuff. Her other hand swung towards him and that too was caught. "I have ta go get her!"

"I'm afraid it's too late, child," Magneto's eyes bore into hers, a coldness with a hint of sadness tucked inside.

Rogue felt as if she couldn't breathe, Mystique was the only family she had left. Her mother abandoned Rogue to her abusive father who never bothered to look for his demon of a daughter when she ran away… and now the one person who had a genuine love for her was gone. They say there are stages to grief, if that was true, Rogue shot straight to anger.

"Who was that woman?" she gritted out through clenched teeth, barely registering the vehicle moving at breakneck speed away from the incident.

"I do not know," he said, removing his grip and her arms fell to her lap as she was sitting on her knees sideways on the seat.

Staring down at her bare hands, she willed herself not to cry, not in front of him, she didn't dare look weak in his presence. Balling her fingers into fists her nails bit into flesh sharply, "Then I'll find out… and when I find her…"

She was just so angry, every inch of skin burning red from the fire threatening to consume her inside.

"You'll do what?" Magneto asked when she failed to finish her sentence.

Rogue looked up at the man, the person her mother always referred to as handsome and complicated, and found his face an empty mask of emotions, "I…"

"You'll do what, Rogue?" he said again and that's when she remembered…

_Peace was never an option._

Rogue brought her hands up, once again mesmerized by the soft creases of skin. "I'll find out who sent her…" her eyes flicked back to his, "and then I'll kill her."

A smile tugged at his lips, a rare form of approval, and that was all she needed to send her down the path which lead to the most regrettable moment of her life…

"You weren't really going to kill me, where you?" Carol's voice was beside her and Rogue flicked away the memory.

The scene dissipated and she sat on the roof ledge just outside her old room. Try as she might, she never could get this place out of her mind. It was her home, her first home, the one she grew up in, the one she ran away from…

"Nah," she answered as Danvers sat down next to her, "well, maybe if I had found ya right then, I was pretty angry."

"I could see that," the woman said quietly as they stared out into the blackness towards the abyss. The Shades, no longer being orchestrated by Danvers, were free to wander, many chatting aimlessly to each other.

"I suppose you want me ta wake up now," Rogue finally spoke, "so that Professor Xavier can wake up your body."

"Thought had occurred to me," Danvers said softly, a hesitance to her voice, "but the woman who wakes up, that will be me from eight years ago, _I'll_ still be in here with you Rogue."

"Yeah, stuck in here with me," Rogue sighed, "a fate worse than death."

"Well, it's not that bad," she tried to make it sound as if she really believed that, "I can think of worse places to be."

That failed to make Rogue feel any better about the situation. "I'd let ya out if I could."

"I know you would," Danvers responded, putting her hand on Rogue's shoulder, "but you can't, that's just how it is, you need to let it go. It was an accident, I forgave you a long time ago."

"And what about her," Rogue snapped back, "the other Carol. When she wakes up eight years of her life is going to be gone and for what? Because I wanted revenge for the death of my mother? Only it turns out Mama was just a big manipulating bitch who never really loved me at all?"

Rogue started to cry, trying to wipe away the tears before they managed to escape halfway down her cheeks.

"You didn't know," the woman pointed out but it did little to help. "And what about Cody, don't you want to wake him up too?"

"Oh, god, Cody," that made matters even worse and she choked back a sob, "I've taken everything from him, he's been in a coma longer than he's lived his life."

"Now don't be talking about me when I ain't around," as if on cue the boy scuttled through the window and sat down on the other side of her, his Lego sword in his hand. Taking one look at Rogue, "Gee, Blondie, what you dun this time?"

The woman held her hands up in surrender, "You try talking to her."

"Me?" he frowned, "I got nothing ta say. Remember, I've been here longer than ya Blondie, got a nice little piece of real estate claimed for myself. I don't bother Skunk Head and she don't bother me. You're tha one that gets all high and mighty over there."

"High and mighty?" Danvers was absolutely aghast, "I only wanted to help her. She needed to know the truth."

"Yeah, and see what good that's done," he gestured toward Rogue as if he was sarcastically showing off a prize.

"At least I'm trying to be productive," she countered, "you just sit around and play with whatever new toys or games filter in."

"Yeah, so?" he asked rhetorically then leaned closer to Rogue. "But seriously, when ya wake up, can ya go by a game store and absorb someone who's played Diablo? Totally want ta check that out."

"Cody!" Danvers admonished.

"What?" he replied innocently.

Rogue couldn't help it, she started to laugh. It was a deep laugh, one that made the ribs hurt and your ears pop. She wasn't sure where it came from, what real emotion was behind them, but just listening to her mental roommates bicker sent her over some edge and this was the only way to come down safely.

"Ya okay?" Cody asked after she had a chance to catch her breath.

"Yeah," she managed to slow her breathing a little bit, "tha thought of spending tha rest of my life with ya two up here made me go crazy for a moment."

"That's comforting," Danvers said dryly.

Cody gave Blondie a look, then turned back to Rogue, "Hey, I can't tell ya how he'll react when he wakes up. I'd like ta think he'd be reasonable and all but ya never know. What can I say, is that if ya don't do it, ya'll regret that even more."

"I know," she answered quietly.

"What's all tha fuss about then?" he said and it looked like Danvers was about to say something in answer but he held up his hand behind Skunk Head's back, index finger pointingly telling her to keep her trap shut.

"I…" she started, trying to formulate her words but her mind a swirl of conflicting emotions. "I just can't face them."

"Face who?" he asked.

"Everyone," she frowned at the word and how true it rang. "You and Carol for starters, but… Pyro, he was my best friend. Magneto had ta have known, maybe even from tha beginning. There's no way I can go back ta tha Brotherhood, or any of them, now. And tha X-Men, I'm tha enemy, I've absorbed so many of them. Sure, tha Professor helped me, but only because Gambit asked him to. And Gambit…"

She didn't quite know how she felt about that man with the red eyes and cocky grin, though she had her theories, none of which were comforting at this moment, simply complicated.

"Okay, for one," Cody started to tick off his fingers, "Pyro is deathly afraid of Mystique, and for good reason," he shuddered, "she'd beat him a mile past an inch of his life without so much as batting an eye. As for Magneto, I told ya, never trust a man who wears a cape, especially a purple one, so there ya go."

Rogue snickered despite herself.

"I think you'll also find," Danvers added, "that the X-Men are not as judgmental as you might think. You've seen into their minds."

"That's tha problem, isn't it," she shook her head, "Gambit was right, it's always been about us vs them. I believe in tha Professor's dream of being able ta live in peace but I believed Magento was right, it wasn't ever gonna happen. Two sides of tha same coin, I picked my side, and now I'm not so sure it was tha right one."

"Then choose a new side," Danvers said quietly, taking her hand in hers, "do you want to be the warrior…"

Cody slipped his elegantly crafted sword into her other hand, "…or the weapon."

Rogue lifted the multicolored toy into the air, it was flimsy at best. One strike and all the Legos would shatter. The kid was too smart for his own good. This was her, each brick a voice and together they looked impressive but ultimately they were just waiting to fall apart.

She was raised to be a fighter, to be a soldier in Magneto's army. It's all she had really known since she was twelve. Sure, she wasn't completely devoid of nurturing, even if apparently it had all been an act on her mother's part. Still, she had toys and a little manner of freedom when it came to the typical teenager stuff. However, she was never let to forget that a war was going on.

"The warrior," she said curiously, rubbing two fingers down the side of the blunt blade, "the weapon," she frowned, now laying it across both hands, "or something in between…"

With a crack, the sword snapped in two.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: **You guys are the best, couldn't ask for better readers! :-) Rogue and Gambit have been on a whirlwind journey, let's see where it's led them. :-D

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine<strong>

_Xavier's School for the Gifted_

Rogue floated towards consciousness very slowly, making sure that the voices stayed behind, content to wander in the abyss. She became faintly aware of her surroundings, her body feeling naked under a hospital gown and light gauzy blanket. There was pressure in odd places, adamantium needles stuck in her skin, electrodes attached to her head, and other things she didn't want to think about.

How long had she been out?

Her eyes were heavy, she tried to open them but it felt as if that would take too much effort. There was pressure again, this time in her hand and she vaguely returned the gesture.

It was all too much, she was awake now, and all she wanted to do was sleep, proper sleep. She drifted away, a spicy tingle assaulting her nose bringing up dreams of hot bayou nights…

…

Hours later, Rogue awoke again, this time she felt much stronger, physically and mentally, having found many of those annoying pressures removed from her body.

"Gentle now," a voice said as she tried to sit up, blinking her eyes to rid herself of the blurriness, "take a moment."

Two very large hands carefully helped her to sit up and she turned her head to make out the big blue blur that was the Beast, Hank McCoy. "How long?"

"About three weeks," he answered politely, placing another pillow behind her back. "Your vitals remained healthy and I kept you stocked on fluids," her vision cleared enough to see a thoughtful look on his face, "I don't believe you'll have any physical repercussions though I'd like to observe you for a couple of days, just to make sure."

"Right," the word was raspy, covering her skepticism and fear. She was in the belly of the enemy camp, she could think of plenty of reasons they'd want to keep her right where they wanted her.

"Oh dear, of course," Beast daintily picked up a pitcher off the table and poured a cup of water. He handed it over to her and that's when she noticed the pair of cotton gloves on her hands. Her body was so used to the feeling of them on she didn't realize they were there.

It was nice of them to think of that detail, but she couldn't help if it was meant as some kind of false sense of security. Danvers admonished her for being so paranoid.

Through the open door Professor Xavier wheeled in, "Good to see you awake, Rogue, how are you feeling?"

"How ya think?" she sipped eagerly at the water. "Like I hit tha snooze button one too many times."

"Understandable," he smiled at her, then his brow became thoughtful. "We've located Mystique, she's still using her Colonel Loft cover story. She's actually moved very high up in the Pentagon's command structure."

Familiar feelings of protectiveness overcame her and she tried to push them down, "What yah gonna do about her?"

He smiled softly at her, "We were waiting on you actually, to see what you wanted to do."

"Me?" she was confused, was she still dreaming?

"There are two options, one, we can go in and attempt to detain her," the telepath grimaced, "though you know as well as I do that Raven is not one to go quietly."

"Didn't know yah were tha master of understatements, Professor," she said sarcastically.

"Yes," he said wryly. "The second option is that we use this to our advantage, use her to feed false information and to keep track of Magneto and other former Brotherhood agents."

Suddenly it became clear and if she wasn't so weak she'd storm out of the room, "I see, you want my help because you think I'd know how to stop her, and if not, how best to manipulate her. Yah want ta use me like all tha others," she muttered under her breath, "Figures."

"On the contrary," the man wasn't too surprised at her outburst, or fazed by it, "it was Mr LeBeau's suggestion that we speak with you first before acting."

That threw Rogue, "Gambit's suggestion?"

"Yes," Xavier nodded, "he convinced us that regardless of what she did, Mystique is still your mother, you should have some say in what happens next. The team agreed provided you woke up in a reasonable amount of time."

Rogue didn't know what to say and simply stared at the man's bald head, watching the light reflex off of the surface. Had Gambit really said that? Of course he did, he knew more of her story than any of them. He knew the basic of all facts: Rogue loved Mystique. She was her mother, she taught Rogue how to accept who she was, to be strong and resilient.

Nothing would change that.

Of course, that didn't mean she had to simply sit back and take the abuse… especially if it had all been part of a lie…

"Take some time to think about it," the man broke into her thoughts, "you've only just woken up. I imagine you'd like some real food and perhaps a hot shower. We've arranged a room for you upstairs, provided Hank okays you to leave."

"I don't see why not," the Beast was looking at a clipboard, one of the pages turned up. "Due to her invulnerability, Miss Rogue did not suffer any adverse effects from being in a prolonged coma. I still want to do a checkup in a few days and do let me know if you start to feel ill."

Her own room? "Yah don't need ta feel like yah need ta keep me here. I'm not stupid enough ta go against Mystique alone regardless of what I decide and I'm gonna help Danvers, I won't skip out on her."

"Ah, yes, Carol," he gave her a hopeful smile, "I've been looking into that matter and I'm much more convinced that we can wake her up. But I do think we should wait a couple of days, let your own mental landscape settle before we attempt anything."

"And Cody?" Rogue immediately asked.

"As I do not know where he is located I haven't been able to observe his level of brain activity," he admitted, "but if it is anything like Carol's then I foresee no issues."

"Right, of course," she frowned, hoping that there wouldn't be any complications with Cody.

"We'll take care of the details after you've had a chance to clean up," Xavier rolled over to a table and pulled a cotton robe off it. "Your clothes have been laundered and are in your room," he brought the robe over to her. "Once you're ready, I'll give you the grand tour, it ends in the mess hall, I believe it's Turkey Sandwich day."

"I don't understand," she frowned, twisting the robe in her hands, "why ya'll being so nice ta me? I already said I'd help."

He returned her frown, "I didn't know we needed ulterior motives to be nice."

"I don't exactly have tha best history with ya'll," she attempted to ignore all the voices that told her she was being ridiculous.

"The thing about history, Rogue, is that it's in the past. You may have fought against us but you never once fought unfairly or with disrespect," he let out a small sigh. "Erik and I may differ when it comes to many things, but we both believe in a better future. What kind of future would that be if we learned the wrong lessons from the mistakes of our past? Forgiveness must be earned, yes, but it must also be offered."

Rogue didn't know what to say, even her usual defensive remarks fell dead on her lips. Was she now being given the choice to see the other side of that coin? What if she didn't like what she saw, or worse, it was everything she hoped it could be? Could she stand to have her world turned upside down again?

"I can't pretend to understand how you must feel right now," he continued softly, "but just know that you are permitted to leave at any time, Rogue," he reached over and patted her hand gently, "but you are _welcome_ to stay."

…

The sun was warm but the air chilly, spring was almost here but winter refused to give up its hold. That's one thing Rogue liked about her mutation, being forced to always wear full covering meant she never had to be cold and being from the South, she preferred the heat anyway. Granted, it was annoying when she had to go to the tropics, or Florida, or anyplace like Florida, or just Florida in general, but she took the positive aspects of her mutation where she could.

Sitting on a brick wall which ran the length of the main part of the mansion's property, Rogue looked out onto the serene countryside. The trees swayed softly and a flock of birds couldn't seem to agree where to take roost for the night. With the sun beginning its decent, the sky took on a pinkish hue of the softest… magenta? Funny how she never thought of that as a color until now.

"Beautiful," the word was whispered into her ear and Rogue nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Damn it, Gumbo," she growled, looking over her shoulder, "that's a good way ta get yahself hurt."

The Cajun chuckled to himself and leaned back against the barrier, glancing at her from the side, "Just making an observation, petite."

"Right," she said in a southern drawl.

Silence fell except for the soft shuffling of a deck of cards until Gambit said, "So, you decided to leave Mystique be, take da whole 'cloak and dagger' routine."

She wanted to snicker at his description, but ultimately, "Mystique won't go quietly, people'll get hurt, most likely innocents, that I can promise. Best we keep this information ta ourselves for tha time being, use it against her, then strike at tha most opportune moment."

"You keep saying 'we', cheri," cards flew between his hands, "does dis mean you'll be taking da Professor up on his offer?"

"Been considering it," she shrugged, still staring out at the trees swaying in the wind. "Tomorrow we're gonna try ta wake up Carol, and if that goes well, then Cody."

"And after that?" he questioned, turning on his side to look at her.

"Dunno," she shrugged, not wanting to talk about it.

There was a soft pause before he asked, "Still looking for your peace, Rogue?"

"I reckon I am," she sighed, slipping off the wall to stand, "Yah let me know if yah find it laying about somewheres."

He chuckled again, "That I'll do, petite."

Turning around to lean forward on the rock wall, she took a moment to take in Gambit's appearance: tall, dark and annoying as always, but there was something different about him now. Maybe it was due to the events in New Orleans, or maybe she was simply seeing him in a different light, but he had changed, they both had.

"What about you," she ended up asking.

"What about me?" he shrugged easily, slipping his cards into a pocket.

"I hear yah got your bike back from Wolverine over a week ago," because apparently the man couldn't resist a high-stakes bike race, "yah waiting for tha best moment ta ride off inta tha sunset?"

He gave a bashful chuckle if there ever was one, "Dat's for heroes, cheri. I'm more of da sneaking out da window type."

"Of course yah are," she couldn't help but laugh.

Gambit leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face, "Wanna sneak out of it with me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him questionly, "Just what you offering, Gambit?"

"Dat once you're done with your business," he referred to Carol and Cody, "well, you and me, we make a pretty good team."

"You don't _do_ teams, remember?" she smirked.

His grin got that much wider, "I never turn down a good thing when I see it, cheri."

Rolling her eyes, "I'm not an improvision."

"No, you definitely are not," he leaned forward, their lower bodies blocked by the wall but his face merely inches away from hers. She could see his red eyes glowing, smoldering even, like embers in a fire, and again she wondered if they had always looked that way or if she seeing him in a new light… or as a new man.

"Remy LeBeau," she rolled the name around on her tongue and it melted like hard candy, slow and sweet. "I do believe you've gotten into my head."

That perpetual grin spread farther and she tried not to focus on his mouth as he brushed a strand of white hair from her eyes, "Wouldn't want to be anywhere else, ma cheri."

Rogue resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean into the man who was making her world exciting and complicated, "You make a tempting offer."

"I never make anything less," his words were low and seductive.

Managing to pull back from him before she did something she regretted, or liked too much, she used her flight to quickly jump over the rock wall. He stayed close to her, closer than most dared considering her mutation. "Two sides of tha same coin, that's what you told me, right?"

His brow furrowed at her sudden change in the conversation but he easily said, "Oui."

"Well, I think I've been on tha wrong side all this time," she said sadly as she finally spoke the truth.

"Do you really need to pick a side, petite?" the disappointment was there but he covered it well, he wasn't one to push when a woman said 'no' under any circumstance.

"I guess I'll find out," she shrugged with a soft sigh, "I need ta find out."

Taking a gloved hand, he brushed his lips against her knuckles and wished her good luck, "Je vous souhaite le meilleur dans votre enterprise."

"You say that as if we'll never see each other again," she frowned.

"Always a possibility, cheri," he lowered her hand and was hesitant in releasing it.

"Nah," she smiled knowingly, "you'll be back, Cajun."

"Really?" he looked at her curiously. "You think so?"

"Oh, yes," she laughed, leaning into him to whisper, "because I know your secret."

He raised one eyebrow, not looking to terribly worried, "And which secret would that be?"

With a chuckle she stole from him, she brushed past to head towards the mansion, "I've gotten into your head, Remy LeBeau, under your skin, same as you're under mine."

"I wouldn't be so sure about dat, petite," he called after her.

"Course I can, cher," she stopped and glanced over her shoulder, "still here aren't ya?"

Even at that distance she could see his eyes twinkle mischievously, "Remember, Rogue, only take what you can steal."

With a self satisfied grin on her face she walked away from the thief, her gait slow and inviting, "I'll improvise."

/the end

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><p>And that's the end, or is it? Stay for the epilogue and find out. ;-)<p> 


	31. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** When I wrote this fanfic, I envisioned it as a movie, hence the actor prompts, length, style and pacing. And like all good Comic Book Movies, you have to watch all the credits because you never know what you might find! ;-)

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><p><strong>Epilogue (Credits)<strong>

Abbie Cornish as Rogue  
>Ian Somerhalder as <em>Remy LeBeau<em> (Gambit)

_**X-Men: Among Thieves**_

Matt Bomer as Courier  
>Jesse Spencer as <em>Saint-John Allderdyce<em> (Pyro)  
>Yvonne Strahovski as <em>Carol Danvers<em>  
>Hiroyuki Shimosawa as <em>Shingen Yashida<em>  
>Emily Rose as <em>Mercy LeBeau<em>  
>Tom Felton as <em>Pietro Maximoff<em> (QuickSilver)  
>Richard Chamberlain as <em>John-Luc LeBeau<em>  
>Edward James Olmos as <em>Marius Bordeaux<em>  
>Wentworth Miller as <em>Dominikos Ioannis Petrakis<em> (Avalanche)  
>Nicholas Hoult as <em>Hank McCoy<em> (Beast)  
>Chiwetel Ejiofor as <em>Gris Gris<em>  
>Niall Matter as <em>Claude<em>  
>Thandie Newton as <em>Ororo Munroe<em> (Storm)  
>James Nesbitt as <em>Henri LeBeau<em>  
>with<br>James McAvoy as _Charles Xavier_  
>Michael Fassbender as <em>Erik Lehnsherr<em> (Magneto)  
>and<br>Jennifer Lawrence as _Raven_ (Mystique)  
>and<br>Octavia Spencer as _Tante Mattie_

Written by JayCee's RedGold

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><p>A Harley motorbike came to an abrupt stop on the side of the road next to an estate gate. A shadow detached itself from the stone wall where it had been leaning, waiting…<p>

"Yah know, Gambit," a woman smirked in her Southern drawl, "I could have met yah there, I can fly yah know."

"What would be the fun in dat?" he grinned, putting both feet firmly on the ground to keep the bike steady for her.

Rogue crossed her arms, "Yah have a one track mind, anyone ever tell yah that?"

"All da time," Gambit winked, rather pleased with that fact, "so, you sneak out da window?"

"Tha front door actually," she said matter of fact as she swung her leg over the seat to straddle the bike, "and I told tha team ta call me if they needed me."

"Ah, petite," he pouted as they both adjusted, balancing themselves on the bike, "dat's gonna put a wrench in my plans."

"Plans?" Rogue scooted forward, her body dangerously close as her arms wrapped around him, "I thought we were just spending tha day in New York City."

"We are," he grinned over his shoulder, "but da Chicken just happened to recently acquired a piece of jewelry with a rather large emerald attached to it."

"Was that why yah called me?" she narrowed her eyes at him, "So I'd help yah divest Angel of more valuables?"

"Tell me you're not interested," Gambit challenged, his eyes twinkling. "We can mail it back to him afterwards? I know a sweet little spot off the coast of Maine, just da two of us..."

Rogue wanted to slap him, to tell him that she was an X-Man now and they didn't steal for sport, especially since Angel was on Xavier's side. Instead, a grin formed on her face and her cheeks hurt from her contained laughter. After a moment of chewing her bottom lip, she couldn't help herself and asked, "How big an emerald?"

Chuckling, Gambit hit the throttle and gas, shooting off into traffic and Rogue held on tight as they sped down the winding country road. With her hands splayed against the grinning thief's chest, her body flush against his back, and her head resting against him… there was nowhere else she wanted to be…

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><p>Featuring the following songs, also available on the Official Soundtrack…<p>

_If It Hadn't Been For Love_ by Adele

_Paradise_ by Coldplay

_The French Letter_ by JWalk

_Ain't No Rest For The Wicked_ by Cage the Elephant

_I Would Do Anything For You_ by Foster the People

_Sunset Breakup_ by Dr Rubberfunk

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><p>No animals were harmed in the making of this FanFic.<p>

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><p>The writer would love to thank all her wonderful readers, especially those who took the time to review!<p>

**Chellerbelle, MidnightManic, Jean1, ginchy-amanda, byproducts, ishandahalf, Warrior-princess1980, flaming-mod, fannut, Schnuersenkel, massi14, TaiOokamiYoukai, Jadeoblue, Ashandarei, tradingtruthsforlies, Jedi-Lover, Red red red ribbon, Rachael, ChamberlinofMusic, Ichigoyume, phoenixfire44, Anna walker, Ava fay, CaptMackenzie, zootygirl99, Wynille5577, anon**

You all ROCK! I couldn't have asked for better readers! You truly are the awesomeness people!

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><p>This FanFic Void in Utah.<p>

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><p>All characters are property of Marvel Comics, Marvel Entertainment, and 20th Century Fox respectively.<p>

All characters are fictional and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is coincidental.

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><p>A man walked down a hallway which had become far too familiar to him in the past year. Hesitating, he turned the handle and slipped inside. It was dark and he resisted the temptation to ignite his lighter.<p>

"Well," a desk lamp clicked on and Mystique sat in her natural form, "did you talk to her?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, leaning back against the door, "she's really joined the X-Men, said she needed to make peace with herself."

"Peace, hah," the woman shook her head as she tapped deadly sharp nails on the desk. "She's gone soft and Xavier will do nothing to help her bring out her true potential."

That was likely true, the Professor would never force Rogue into using her powers in a way that made her uncomfortable, in the way that Mystique wanted her too. Still, "She's happy there, happier than I've seen her in a long time."

"Of course she is," the woman rolled her yellow eyes, "she's sold herself on Charle's pipe dream, and that's all it is, a fantasy. I was wrong, Rogue isn't as strong as I thought she was. I knew I should have done more… arranged another accidental absorption."

"I think you got it wrong, Mystique," he risked the shapeshifter's err by speaking out. "Rogue's been drifting away from us, from the Brotherhood ideals, for years now. Frankly, me and the guys aren't all surprised she's switched sides. Hell, she's only been taking missions with me out of loyalty to our friendship… some friend I've turned out to be."

"Be pathetic all you want, Saint-John," Mystique said coldly, "but I will not sit idly by while Charles puts nonsense into her head. The world is about to become a much more dangerous place for our kind, Rogue needs to be strong and prepared if she's going to survive it."

"You almost sound like you care," he responded sarcastically.

In a flash, Mystique vaulted over the desk and pinned Pyro to the wall, elbow across his neck, his lighter knocked to the ground. "Of course I care, I'm her _mother_ and you will do best to remember that."

The scales on her arm scraped against his skin as he felt his trachea close up, "Can't… breathe…"

Giving him a disgusted look, she let him go as she began to pace. "We need to get her out of there, away from Charles' destructive influence."

"Good luck with that," he coughed, catching his breath, "when's she not with the X-Men team, she's hanging out with Gambit."

"Gambit," she spoke the name as if it was made of bile. "What could that thief want with a woman he can't even touch?"

"I dunno," he snatched his lighter from the floor, "maybe he actually enjoys her company?"

"Highly unlikely," she waved him off, "the man is nothing but a womanizer who will only use her and then break her heart. The situation's worse than I thought."

This all could have been avoided if Mystique had gone to Rogue in the first place. Pyro resisted the urge to tell her 'I told you so' because he wanted to continue living for at least another day. Resigning himself to the inevitable, "What we gonna do?"

"Simple, we're going to rescue Rogue from herself," of this she seemed quite sure, "and we'll start with the Cajun."

"The plan?" he sighed.

"We'll show Rogue just how worthless of a man he is," she nodded to herself, a smile spreading across her lips as she came to a decision, "failing that… we kill him."

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><p>Gambit and Rogue return in 2013 (ish) in <em>X-Men: Thick as Thieves<em>.


End file.
